GM-46

New ally

28.

Her eyelids heavy, Sandrine struggled to open her eyes. A stubborn buzzing filled her skull. She could hardly breathe, her chest feeling like it weighed tons, the only sensation she could actually identify through the soft cotton wrapping her brain. Difficult to hold on to a coherent thought, everything was jostling around under her skull. Impossible to recognize where she was.

Her eyelids closed again. The nerves in her face sent out a few signals: a sensation on her chin, warm and incongruous. She mechanically raised an arm, surprised to be able to control the numb limb. She ran her hand over her chin, then over her lips: drool!

She opened her eyes again, letting her arm fall. Gradually, her limbs spoke to her. A tickling foot, an itching thigh, her stiffened neck, her throbbing temples, and still the drool flowing from the corner of her lips in a thin, liquid line.

She wanted to swallow, to suck in the trickle of saliva and breathe at the same time. Her numb esophagus reacted too late to the conflicting orders and the drool passed into her airways. She coughed, straightened up, spat, coughed some more, then slowly resumed her breathing.

Still foggy, curled up on her bed, she looked around and recognized the same padded room. The drugs were gradually leaving her system and she was coming to her senses. No more restraints, she was free.

She pivoted and sat on the edge of the mattress. A terrible dizziness seized her, and she had to hold on to the bars of the headboard to keep from toppling over.

She let out another coughing fit, noticed a paper cup filled with water sitting on a stool beside her, and concentrated on grabbing it. Her arm trembling, she spilled some of the contents onto the stool's seat, another onto her blouse, and finally soothed her throat with the little liquid that remained. Cup still in hand, dazed, Sandrine tried to focus. She had to remember something important... But what?

The paper cup slipped out of her hand and bounced to the floor without a sound. She had dreamed... a fundamental event... She had to remember at all costs!

The door opened and she gasped.

"Sandrine?"

The voice, soft and steady, sounded familiar.

She turned her head, curling up onto herself out of habit.

"Sandrine? How are you? It's me, Professor Dumas... Paul... Do you remember?"

Sandrine took a protective posture and watched the newcomer between the fingers of her hands shielding her face. Yes, she recognized him. He'd been here before, accompanied by...

"No, no," she begged, now forming just a human ball.

"It's just me, Sandrine... Dr. Fournier isn't here."

She dared to poke her head out to check that the professor was indeed alone.

"It's over," affirmed the round-faced man. "The doctor won't be taking care of you anymore. From now on, it'll just be me."

Her thoughts went in all directions. Fournier... His injections, his experiments, his... She began uncontrollable back-and-forth movements, her arms encircling her chest and her fingers tapping on her sides. No! No! I need to focus... The dream, I must remember...

Her symptoms lessened a bit, which encouraged the professor to continue.

"No more shackles, you see? It'll be very different with me, I'm here to help you. No more debilitating drugs either. On the contrary, I'm going to stimulate you. I need you to be in good shape, and I need your cooperation."

Sandrine put her hands to her ears. She didn't want to hear him. She wanted to remember, recall that crucial thing she had dreamed about, but what was it?

"Am I talking too loud?" asked the doctor, lowering his voice.

The dream was about her, about her presence here...

"I see you've spilled your drink. Shall I get you another one?"

Get?

Sandrine straightened, a blissful smile on her face.

"Get! The prophecy... They're coming to get me!" she exclaimed.

Doctor Dumas approached with a worried look.

"Hush..." he whispered with a soothing gesture. "Calm down, Sandrine, don't shout, everyone will hear you..."