The Emissary (26 page)

Dr. Varja stood at the counter of the nurses’ station, giving instructions to the nursing team. One of a dying breed of truly dedicated physicians, he wasn’t planning to leave until he had results from Jamie’s CT scan. “Dr. Wells? I’m surprised to see you in ICU this time of night.”

Wells looked at him with the cold, hard stare that comes of omnipotent authority. “I got a call from the CEO of USOIL, asking me to take over here. Ms. Hastings is one of their VIPs.”

“Really? That’s odd. I still have not been able to speak to anyone other than Ms. Bartholomew here.”

Liz looked awkward, but said nothing.

“And how can I help you?” Varja asked, suspiciously.

“Ms. Hastings has actually been in treatment with me for over a year now.”

Varja looked surprised, if not incredulous. “Really? What for?”

“She suffers from occasional episodes of delirium, extreme anxiety, and almost phobic paranoia.”

“How bizarre. Whatever was she doing on a ship in the middle of the ocean, then?”

“I don’t really feel that’s relevant, Doctor,” Wells said, authoritatively.

Beyond his personal dislike for the man, Varja felt there was something very wrong about the director of psychiatric medicine intervening in Jamie’s case, even if he
was
one of the administrators of the hospital, and chairman of the board—and even if he
had
been treating her privately. She had been flown in by helicopter, died and come back, and quite possibly had a blood clot in the brain. She was still critical. Whatever psychiatric issues she’d had before ending
up in the trauma room in ER, they were insignificant compared to these life-threatening developments.

“I’ll be taking over this case.”

“You, Doctor?”

“She is my patient, and I know her medical history.”

“I beg your pardon, but whatever her history, this patient has just been through emergency care and was unconscious for nearly twelve hours. We have reason to suspect brain damage here.”

“I understand that. I’m moving her to the Psychiatric Facility, where my staff and I can keep a close personal watch over her.”

Varja was flabbergasted. “Move this woman? You can’t be serious. We’ve only just brought her out of coma.”

“I don’t recall ever having had to explain myself to an attending physician. Do I need to remind you that I am the chairman of the board of this hospital?”

Varja stood his ground. “Doctor, I mean no disrespect here, but I have been involved in this case since she was wheeled in, comatose. I have reason to suspect cerebral hematoma. She needs to be in ICU until we can be sure she’s stabilized, and we’ve been able to do all the necessary evaluations to make that determination.”

“I want to treat her personally, and that is best accomplished by placing her in the facility. Let’s get her released and signed over to my care. Is that going to be all right with you, Doctor?”

Varja looked at Liz, who had been silent the whole time. He was absolutely dumbfounded that any doctor would even consider moving a patient in Jamie’s condition out of the ICU, much less relocating her into a psychiatric facility, miles outside the hospital. What was the connection between these strange characters: Dr. Wells, a psychiatric doctor; Jamie Hastings, a woman in deep trauma; and this young woman, who didn’t fit with either one?

Dr. Varja was adamant that Jamie Hastings remain in the intensive care unit, with the backup of a twenty-four-hour operative
emergency room just one floor away. “But there could be subdural bleeding,” he insisted. “We’re going to need to see the results of the CT and MRI before making those decisions.”

Emery Wells was not there to listen to Varja’s medical opinions. “The decision is made, Doctor. You can send over the test results with the patient. We are a medical facility, a part of this hospital, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Dr. Varja realized there was nothing he could do to prevent Wells from moving Jamie if he wanted to. There was no one superior to Wells, to whom Varja could voice a protest, and he was well aware that insisting would mean his job. Still, he was a doctor, and his ethics and professional opinion were both being challenged by this strange intervention. “I suppose I don’t have much say in the matter. But I will go on record as saying that this decision goes against all my medical judgment, and that you have overridden my authority.”

“Authority, good doctor? I am the authority here,” Wells said aggressively. “I suppose you can always take it up with the board, if you have a grievance.”

Wells put his hand on Liz’s shoulder, walking her down to the visitors’ lounge to speak to her privately, leaving Varja standing there, incredulous. Once they turned the corner, out of Varja’s sight, Wells pulled a syringe from his pocket and slipped it into her purse. “I want you to use this if she starts talking too much.”

Liz looked despairingly at him. She didn’t sign up for murder.

“It’s only a sedative—you have nothing to worry about. They’ll take her downstairs to X-ray now. Then, they’ll wheel her back up here, for her release, and within the hour she’s on her way over,” he said. “I’ll meet the ambulance outside. You stay right there with her—once we get her checked in over there, I’ll drop you at the Westin. We’ve already got a room for you. And you stay there until I call you.”

“What am I supposed to tell them? Sam will be calling.”

“You tell them she’s fine, sedated, no visitors. And then throw your phone in the ocean. You won’t be speaking to anyone else for a few days—except me. Clear?”

“Clear.”

“You can fill me in on the whale situation tomorrow.”

“You know?”

“Just what I gathered from listening in on the captain’s conversation with the Coast Guard. I am interested in the details—I’m sure you have plenty more to tell. Tomorrow, when things are in place. I’ll be back in an hour.”

They walked back around the corner. Liz returned to Jamie’s room, and Wells approached the nurses’ station, where Dr. Varja was signing papers. “Sign the release, Doctor. I want this patient in the ambulance and on her way, within the hour.”

Dr. Varja leaned up against the counter, stupefied. Moving Jamie out of the hospital could mean her life. But there was no one he could appeal to: Wells was that man—the highest official in the hospital. Varja shook his head, trying to make sense of what was happening.

Wells walked back down the hall to the elevator, and slithered off the third floor just as sneakily as he had come in.

While Liz waited for Jamie to return from X-ray, she grabbed the opportunity to call Sam. Strange, how cold she felt, as if she’d never even touched him. The mask was off now; that ship had sailed.

He picked up immediately. “Wow, I was just about to call you! What’s the news?”

“She’s stable. She regained consciousness relatively soon and they’ve been running tests all day, and now they’ve sedated her. She’ll sleep through the night. I think the worst is over.”

“Phew! That is excellent news. Everybody here will be glad to hear that. How are you holding up?”

“Well, I’m knackered, as you can imagine. I’m going in to town now and take a room somewhere.”

“I’ll call you later?”

Liz wouldn’t be talking to Sam later. Probably never again. “I need to sleep now,” she said. “Bye, Sam.” Before he had a chance to reply, she was gone.

She removed the battery and the chip from her cell phone, and stepped out into the hallway, where she had seen a large waste bin marked “bio-hazardous waste.” While no one was looking, she tossed them both in and closed the lid back down securely. She was done with
The Deepwater
—no further contact. She turned
on her new government-issue phone, as instructed, and waited for Jamie to return. They wheeled Jamie back up to the third floor, but since she was being released, they didn’t hook her back up to the monitors—against everyone’s better judgment, on orders from Dr. Emery Wells. She would be leaving in a matter of minutes.

The nurse came in with her. “We’ve got the release papers. We’re just waiting for the test results and then we’ll transfer her out to the ambulance.”

Jamie was still drowsy, but much more alert than before she was taken downstairs. Liz walked to her bedside, and caressed her hand. “Hey there,” she said, “how are you hanging in there?”

Jamie was aware enough by now to realize that something wasn’t right, but she still had no idea she was being kidnapped, or that the hospital had its hands tied to prevent it. She didn’t feel safe with Liz, but there was no one else there for her. Where was Jimbo? She trusted him and she knew he was ready to listen, but of course, he was with the ship. Jamie knew she was trapped, too weak to move—too confused to even try to think for herself. For the very first time in her life, she was completely dependent on others—strangers, who didn’t love her.

“Did you call Jimbo? I have to speak to Jimbo.”

“Yes, Jamie, we called him and we’ve called your family too. Everyone is rooting for you. And I’ve assured them everything is under control.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Well, let’s just say you’re out of danger now, which is the most important thing. You’ve been in and out of consciousness for a while now. My god, Jamie, what a trauma you’ve been through. You’re a survivor, though!”

Jamie looked at her, vacantly. There was so much she still couldn’t put together. “I can’t remember …”

“The doctor said you were delirious. Do you remember? You
told him you were underwater, swimming around with the whales or something.”

“I was on the other side.”

“He said you were hallucinating.”

“They took me to a city.”

“That’s right, you told him there was this big colony or something down in the ocean floor, imagine? You were really far out there for a while, I’m afraid. Must have been the effect of all these medications and then, you have been unconscious for quite a while.”

“I died.”

“Oh my god, yes, that’s right. Dr. Varja told me your heart stopped—they had to use a defibrillator. How did you know that?”

“I saw everything.”

“Sorry? You saw what?”

“I saw the city … the whales showed me everything. I was there.”

“Well … the doctor said you were hallucinating.”

“I was
there
. And now I know the story.”

There was another patient in 368A, next to her bed. Liz asked Jamie to speak more quietly, so that she didn’t disturb the woman.

“There are these towers everywhere. And these beams,” she muttered, “… the device … long rays … sonar. It’s all designed to shatter Earth’s frequency. It’s happening now.”

“Jamie, what are you talking about? What device?”

“The towers, the drums, they’re all connected to stop the pulse—it’s the ultimate weapon. That’s why they’re killing the whales, don’t you understand? The whales carry the music, the pulse …” Jamie held her free palm to her head, grimacing from the pain.

Liz whispered, “How do you know about this?”

“The whales … they told me … they showed me. You have to believe me. This is the final war for the Earth. The real one.”

Liz pushed on. “Where is this underwater city? Can you locate it?”

“There’s more than one. And there are millions of light beings in the oceans: it’s a parallel civilization.”

“Why have they never been identified—why hasn’t anyone located them?” Liz asked, prodding her to reveal what she knew.

“They cloak themselves. They can disappear from 3D. But I can see them. I can see them all, and I have the eyes of the whales to take me there.”

“Is it near the sanctuary?”

“Of course. They came first—the whales gravitated to them.” Jamie struggled to sit up in the bed. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“I do, Jamie. I believe you see this.”

“Yes, of course, perfect answer. You don’t believe they’re there, but they are. There is a parallel civilization, right on this planet, and nobody knows about it except those who are trying to kill them.” Through her clouded vision, through the dulling of her extrasensory perceptions, Jamie saw, once again, the black mask she’d seen over Liz’s face in the beginning. That was the moment of reckoning. She knew, then, that she was in the hands of a dark force.

Liz asked Jamie, again, to lower her voice.

“You’re not on my side, are you?” Jamie said, pleadingly, through tears of exhaustion and a growing sense of hopelessness. She scrambled for the emergency call button, to call in the nurse without alerting Liz, but couldn’t reach it. “You fool. You don’t get it, do you? None of us will survive it—not even you. Why can’t you see? Don’t you see what you’re doing?” Jamie screamed for the nurse, trying to save herself. No one answered—the nurses were away from their station, doing rounds.

Liz tried to calm her down, but Jamie was inconsolable, screaming for help, leaving Liz no choice but to take the syringe from her purse and inject it into the drip. Jamie tried to pull the needle
out from the back of her hand, but she was already immediately immobilized from whatever was in the pharmaceutical cocktail Liz had slipped her. “By the time you realize what you’ve done, it will be too late … too late … too …” And she was out cold again.

Liz sat there, frozen. She wasn’t sure what was going to happen next, and she had no message from Wells. More than an hour had passed—what was he up to? Nervously, she awaited his directive.

Accompanied by a nurse, Dr. Varja walked into the room carrying an envelope containing the test results and Jamie’s chart. He was stern. “I don’t know who you are, but I will tell you this. Everything is documented, with witnesses. If this woman doesn’t make it, you and the doctor will have to answer for your actions. I am reporting that she is being taken out of intensive care against medical advice and without my consent. I will report it to the police as well.”

The nurse checked the saline drip, which would be wheeled out with Jamie, and tucked two extra blankets around her.

“In my country, we believe in karma. If you understood how karma works, you would not be doing this.” Without waiting for Liz to say a word, Varja stormed out, leaving space for the orderlies to come and transfer Jamie out the ER exit. They waited inside the door for the ambulance to arrive. Liz looked outside, searching for Wells, who had still not arrived. What she didn’t notice, off at the end of the parking lot, was an unmarked taxi parked within sight of the entrance.