woman, her hair blowing back in the wind, her eyes narrowed in what appeared to be pain and resolution.
He accepted the coffee in one hand and lifted the graphic novel with the other. 'You read this?'
'Are you kidding? It's the best. I've collected them all. They're my most popular item. They—'
To Luther's surprise, Mort suddenly clammed up. 'What?'
He shook his head. 'Nothing. I just… I realized how you might look at it, me reading graphic novels.'
The lie showed all over poor Mort's face. For some reason, he didn't want to talk about the story. With more to ponder, Luther again skimmed the cover.
Something about that cover depiction drew him. The claws of curiosity dug in, and Luther couldn't let it go. 'Mind if I borrow this?'
'Why?'
'I've heard good things about it.'
Suspicion showed again. 'Yeah? From who?'
Thanks to Gary, he didn't have to lie. 'There's a college kid who hangs out at the station, getting in some credit time. He cleans up, runs errands, hands out the mail… that sort of thing. He mentioned the novel to me just this morning. Raved about it, actually.'
Staring down at the floor, Mort muttered, 'He's probably getting anxious for the next installment. I know I am.'
'So can I borrow it?'
Drawn back to himself, Mort looked at Luther. 'Uh, sure. But… you'll bring it back, right? I mean, they become collector's items. I wouldn't want anything to happen to it.'
'I'll keep it safe. Soon as I'm done, I'll return it to you.'
'Thanks. Take your time. I've already read it, but a new one should be out soon, so I was just rereading it until then.'
It occurred to Luther that he could accomplish a lot by becoming Morty's friend. 'When do you expect Gaby back?'
'I don't. That is, she comes and goes on her own. Most of the time I don't even hear her. I swear, she's like a ghost.'
Did Gaby sneak out, or was stealth a natural part of her personality? 'Sounds like you have plenty of time to visit.'
'Sure.'
Luther glanced at his watch. 'Let's order a pizza. My treat. It'll give us a chance to get better acquainted, and you can tell me more about the people around here.'
Specifically, he could tell him more about Gaby.
Blending into a hospital couldn't have been easier. Watching the woman covertly proved simpler still. Curiosity was sharp, but then, to a scientific mind that never rested, this new phenomenon held almost as much interest as the cancer growth.
Thinking of the cancer growth wrought both satisfaction and annoyance.
Too many medical critics want to proclaim that the procedures violate a cardinal rule of surgery by leaving dead tissue in the body. Of course that can—and usually does—lead to sepsis. But on a dying body, what difference did a massive infection make? Why can't the skeptics grasp the underlying significance in what we can learn, what advancements can be made in the field of cancer research?
Idiots.
But not this one, not the spiritual girl. She saw too much, and understood everything. She had a similar intelligence.
sharp and unwavering, and a way of dealing with things that proved almost as satisfying as a major medical breakthrough.
Stepping into a patient's room gave all the cover needed. The girl went on past, her long ragged jeans dragging the hospital floor, her lank hair in her face, her eyes almost unseeing. She'd turned her thoughts inward, and for the moment, forgotten her purpose.
Interesting.
So not only lightning distracted her, but an inflated empathy for the ailing took her off course, too? Good to know.
And even easier to use.
But first, like the cancer subjects, this would be tested. After all, brilliant minds insisted on analyzing all that they could. Then, with the results in hand, the knowledge gained could be put to good use.
For an extended length of time, Gaby wandered unnoticed through the hospital. Silent as a wraith and just as devoid of her surroundings, she went up elevators, down halls, in and out of waiting rooms. At times her senses prickled, but overall, the despondency of strangers overwhelmed her. She heard soft sobbing, loud wailing, and witnessed restless, worried pacing.
If she'd had a heart, it would have broken into tiny little pieces.
But what she'd once claimed as a heart had been shredded years ago.
Eventually, as she again became familiar with the suffering, everything blunted enough for her to concentrate on her unease. By then, she could detect no evil, and in fact felt the power of angels lurking about. Auras, eight feet square, showed strength of purpose. The exact opposite of the draining auras near the abandoned isolation hospital, these hues fed her, strengthening her, giving her clarity.
Whomever she'd followed had gotten away.
Time for her to leave, too. Next time, Gaby assured herself, she'd do better.
To get her bearings in the sepulchral hall, she looked around and realized she'd wandered into the cancer ward. Several yards away, a nurses' station stirred with lights, machines, sounds, and kindly-looking women.
No. Not here. Making haste, Gaby turned to leave before she got noticed.
Mere seconds before she reached the elevator, she detected the soft cooing of a woman. It was a familiar sound, one of insanity and surrender.
One without hope.
Her eyes closed. Father had made those indecipherable sounds too, when the cancer had reached his brain and modern medicine numbed his pain. They sounded placid enough, but Gaby knew the truth. They meant nothing, no more than the body issuing them.
Unable to help herself, she slowly turned and looked into the room.
A shrunken female form, barely clinging to life, rested flat on her back in the bed. Beside her, a plump nurse gently eased a damp cloth over her arms. The cancer victim made another pleasurable sound, and the nurse smiled.
'It's all right, Dorie. I'm here. Your family has been to visit, but they needed to go home. You know you're very loved, my dear. Very, very loved. They all care so much. And I care. I'll be here until morning, and then Eloise will take my place. You know how you like it when she brushes your hair.'
Hot tears welled in Gaby's eyes, choking her, blurring her vision of the deceptive scene. Someone touched her arm, and she flinched away, coming back to the here and now in a crashing disturbance.
'Hey, it's okay,' the man said. He wore a cleric's collar and a sympathetic smile. All around him, a swelling purple aura swam and shifted, indicating a noble and spiritual soul. 'Is Dorie a relative of yours?'
Gaby straightened as much as she could. To her horror, she could feel her nose running, but she had nothing to wipe it.
The man handed her a hankie. 'It's so difficult, I know.'
Gaby snatched the hankie and wiped her eyes first, then blew hard. Uncaring of decorum, her voice broken with pain, she said, 'It's fucking inhumane.'
The man peered in at Dorie and nodded. 'It's not something we can easily understand. But we all do what we can.'
'There's nothing that can be done!' Gaby didn't mean to raise her voice, but memories of Father growing weaker by the day still infested her mind. Over and over, she visualized the awful treatments that made him suffer more than the worst torture. She remembered his agony, his prayers, and then his blankness. She remembered…
