Dr. Neff called out to her. She felt him holding her upright, preventing her from falling off the cot, but she couldn’t understand what he was saying.
She held herself upright, closed her eyes, and focused on the world around her while pushing away the fuzziness and pain from her brain. The feel of the cotton sheets locked in her balled-up fists, the sound of Dr. Neff’s voice trying desperately to reach her, and the smell of cleaning agents she recognized but couldn’t name. The tension of her clenched jaw and the metallic taste of blood in her mouth as it flowed from her inner cheek, caught between her teeth. Slowly the room around her became clear again. The burning heat slipped away as her body relaxed and she fell back onto the bed.
“Allison, are you okay? Say something.”
Allison looked up at Dr. Neff, surprised by the genuine concern glimmering in his eyes. Something within her pushed back against the brief softness she felt for him. Danger.
“Yes. I’m sorry. I had a . . .” Allison’s words faded as she tried to put the experience into words but could not. Dr. Neff sighed with relief and looked at Allison with understanding eyes.
“Many of those who were sick and recovered have flashbacks from the time they were ill. They come and go. Sometimes they occur randomly, at other times certain things can trigger them. I’m assuming that is what you just experienced. But I have never seen someone react as strongly to one as you just did.” Dr. Neff filled a glass with water from a pitcher off a table behind him and handed it to Allison. She eagerly drank it. “It took over a year to manufacture a vaccine that could be produced in large enough quantities to distribute to the world population. New infection seems to be under control now. But there is still much work needed and it cannot happen without people like you.”
Allison pulled the cotton sheets up to her neck and sank into her cot as she studied the concerned Dr. Neff. She had to remind herself of the thought she had when he first touched her. Danger.
Allison cleared her throat. “I think I need to rest,” she said while rolling over, her back to the doctor.
“You don’t know how lucky you are to have overcome this illness. Think about what I’ve said. Please,” Dr. Neff uttered before exiting the room.
She was lucky. How could this be lucky?
Allison stared at the sheet walls of her room, listening to footsteps and chatter beyond them. She debated between staying and trusting the medical professionals who had provided her care, or listening to her gut and getting the hell out. The liquid medication that was to go in her vein dripped from the disconnected tubing and soaked the sheets beneath her pillow. A woman’s angry screams interrupted her thoughts.
“Where is she? What have you done with her?” the woman demanded.
Allison recognized the voice but couldn’t quite place it as the medical fog still lingered in her mind. Other voices were trying to hush the woman.
The familiar voice said loudly, “You can’t keep her here if she doesn’t want to stay. I want to ask her myself. Allison!” The woman was almost frantic. It was Sandra.
Allison got up and let the disconnected IV tubing hit the floor. She made her way through the labyrinth of curtain walls toward Sandra’s voice. She found both Sandra and Dave at the open entrance to the tent. Allison could see people walking through the camp behind them. Blocking their way was Dr. Neff, Nurse Catherine, and a few armed Collectors. When Sandra saw Allison, her face lit up and the tightness in her jaw disappeared.
“There she is,” she said, trying to push through the human blockade, but they stood firm.
“What’s going on?” Allison asked. Nurse Catherine rushed to Allison’s side, trying to maneuver her back into the deeper parts of the tent, but Allison batted Catherine’s hands away and asked again.
“The Wiltons wanted to see you, but we told them you needed your rest and could not be interrupted.” Dr. Neff’s voice has an undertone of hostility; his face was tight, his eyes wide. Catherine placed an arm around Allison’s waist and another on her shoulder, directing her back down the hall with a little too much force. Allison smacked Catherine’s hands away again. Dr. Neff glared, making alarms sound in Allison’s mind. Her skin crawled as if it were trying to jump off her body. Allison shuddered. The Collectors rested their hands on the weapons slung across their bodies, fingers on their triggers as their eyes darted back and forth among the Wiltons, Allison, and the doctor. Rage grew in Allison’s belly.
She looked at the couple who saved her from the road. Their faces were taut with worry, their eyes softly pleading with her. The faces of the medical staff held no warmth, no compassion, no kindness. Something was not right. She had to pick a side. She went with her gut instinct. Allison lunged toward the Wiltons. Dr. Neff and the Collectors blocked her way as she tried to push past them.
“Excuse me. I’d like to leave,” Allison demanded, her tone firm and voice deeper than she had ever heard it. She attempted to make eye contact with Dr. Neff but faltered when his furious eyes hit hers.
“I’m afraid I cannot let you do that. It is a matter of public well-being,” Dr. Neff sneered, his voice snide and slithering with repulsion. Upon hearing his words, the fire in her core spread, filling her with confidence.
“Have the laws changed? Because I know my rights and you cannot hold me against my will,” she said, her voice deep, and a low growl escaped her lips. She locked her eyes with his. This time he faltered and
