The first time I wake up, I can't move. People dressed in blue suits with helmets are gathered around me. I get the strange feeling that I'm being studied. It feels like I'm taking my first breath.
There is something wrong with my eyes. Everything I see is wrapped in either blue or gold threads of light. Some of these lights are more like laser beams. They streak through the room like shooting stars, sometimes getting absorbed by a person or object. I should probably be afraid of these lights, but I'm not. It seems odd more than anything. Waking up surrounded by a bunch of strangers, now that's a bit scary.
It seems to surprise these people that I'm awake and there's a bit of commotion. A woman with red bangs cut straight as an arrow frantically pushes keys on a laptop before a robotic arm whirls down from above to administer a shot to my arm. I fall into dreamless sleep.
When I wake again, I'm restrained and sitting in a chair before a table with a glass of water on it. The threads of light that I saw before have subsided but I still see streaks of blue and gold zip through the room every now and again.
The room is made of tinted glass so I can't see through to the other side. I see the ragged reflection of a skinny girl with a shaved and bandaged head staring back at me. It takes me a moment to realize that this girl is me. I focus again on the glass of water. I'm so thirsty.
I realize for the first time that I'm nauseated and that I have been since waking up. A buzzer sounds and I hear the whirl of a door as it swings open. I see a figure in a blue suit enter behind me reflected in the tinted glass. The person walks across the room and sits down at the table with me. I think it's the woman with red hair from before. My nausea is overwhelming. I'm going to be sick. Leaning to the side, I intend to throw up when I see a stainless steel bowl on the floor next to me. Someone knew I wouldn't be feeling well. The woman hurries over and holds the bowl for me. A little water comes up but nothing else. I feel a little bit better and nod to her that I'm finished. She sets the bowl back down and holds the glass of water so I can sip it. After I take a few drinks, she sits down opposite me.
I get right to the point. "What's wrong with me?"
"We're not sure," she answers through a speaker on her helmet.
"Am I sick?"
"We don't think so. But you can make other people sick."
I look around the room and see a streak of blue light shoot from the ceiling and disappear into the floor. I want to cry and feel a knot tighten in my throat. "What happened to me? Where am I? What is this place?" I churn out questions.
"Let's start with your name. Do you know that?" the woman asks calmly.
I shake my head slightly. "No."
"Mr. Kingshire?" She looks up towards the ceiling behind me.
I try to see who she's looking at but can't.
A man answers through an intercom. "Go ahead," he authorizes her. "We knew this was a possibility." He has a slight English accent.
The woman sighs and her face suddenly looks tired and stressed. She directs her eyes back to mine. "Your name is Hannah McKenzie," she begins, watching for any reaction from me. But the name sounds foreign as I think about it. "Hannah. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this," she says sympathetically before taking a breath. "About three weeks ago, your family perished in a tornado along with eleven others."
I feel nothing at first. I understand that my memory has been affected by whatever it is that I survived. Tears suddenly sting my eyes because I'm afraid. The woman misreads this. I want to remember my family but I can't. My imagination goes on to tell me how upset I would be if I could.
"What is it?" she asks.
"What..." I'm at a loss for words. What do you say in response to something like this? "Who were they?" I finally manage. I try to wipe the tears from my eyes using my shoulder.
"Jennifer and Thomas McKenzie were your parents. Your mother was a dentist and your father was a building contractor. You had a younger sister named Riley. She was thirteen."
I nod and close my eyes, letting tears stream down my face. I've lost everything except my life. Taken from me are my family and any memory I had of them. The woman patiently waits for me to compose myself. My stomach clenches and nausea returns so violently that I don't even have time to lean over and try to hit the bowl. I throw up on the table. The woman departs and returns with a roll of paper towels. She wipes my chin and the watery mess up before tossing them in the bowl beside my chair. She sits back down and begins to speak.
"You're in a military hospital now. The paramedics that arrived the night of the storm had to resuscitate you. You're a lucky young lady. You were struck by lightning during the storm. You were then admitted to the local hospital, and shortly thereafter, we were called because of your...unusual condition."
"Unusual condition?"
"There were high levels of radiation emanating from your room," she explains.
"From my room? Or from me?"
She smiles for the first time. "You're pretty smart," she says. "The radiation was indeed traced to you. About 5 millisieverts of ionizing radiation per hour were measured. While a onetime dose of 5 millisieverts isn't particularly dangerous and is about the same as receiving a chest CT scan, your levels have been rising. An hour ago we measured your emissions at about 100 millisieverts per hour. Unfortunately, these levels of radiation can be quite harmful over an extended period of time. The suit I'm wearing is made of a nanocarbon mesh that absorbs about 99 percent of ionizing radiation, so my exposure is minimal. To give you some context, the maximum yearly dose permitted for US radiation workers is 50 millisieverts. A onetime dose of 2000 millisieverts can be fatal." I can see her frown and shake her head slightly. "As far as we can tell, the radiation poses no threat to you personally. We're trying to figure out how and why it's happening."
I let this information sink in for a moment. "Then why am I getting sick? And come to think of it," I add, "why am I tied up?" I wiggle my wrists against the arms of the chair.
"It's for your protection and ours."
My jaw sets and I can feel my anger rising.
"Listen." She sounds as frustrated as I feel. "We don't know what's happening to you. And until we do, you'll have to be patient."
"I am a patient already," I point out.
The woman gives me the barest hint of a smile. "A patient patient, then. Your body is changing at a molecular level. You're sick because it's purging itself of unneeded processes."
I stare at her. I don't know about my body purging itself, but it does feel numb. "I don't understand."
"I know and neither do we. Not yet. But some of the smartest people in the world are working to figure it out," she assures me. "But it'll take time. We've already learned so much."
"Yeah, my posing a threat to people must have been a terrific discovery."
The woman seems disheartened. There are dark circles around her eyes. "Yes," she answers after a moment. "In addition, there's a silicon aspect to some of your skin cells. They are beginning to convert light into energy. We believe that when this molecular change has concluded, you'll no longer need food or water."
I don't know what to say.
She continues. "Electrolytes, such as sodium, potassium, and magnesium help to regulate fluid balance in the human body. While you still possess these elements, some of your electrolytes now contain complexes of lithium ions—which are probably the source of your radiation emissions. We are unable to isol—"
"Hannah," the man interjects over the speaker. "You've been given a gift. If we can find out what is happening to you and how to replicate the process, we could end world hunger. We could—"
This jars me back to reality. "A gift?" I interrupt. I glare at the woman in front of me, directing my anger at her because she's the only one I can see. "You've just told me that my family is gone. Any memory of them has been stripped of me. I've essentially become the government's guinea pig and you have the nerve to call it a gift? What is wrong with you people?"
The woman takes a deep breath. "Okay," she glances upward, presumably at the man who just spoke. "I can see how you would feel that way," she acknowledges calmly, trying to diffuse my anger. "But clearly there are profound implications here. And we can't be sure that you won't eventually become sick," she explains. "You'll need someone to look after you during this change. Every indication is that you're becoming stronger. Your body is healing at an unprecedented rate. The lightning strike you sustained seared half the skin from your head, Hannah. Your body isn't just healing, it's regenerating. We don't think you'll have scars or any trace of the trauma you suffered. There have been days when the radiation emitted from your changing body has declined by ten to twenty percent. We think...we're hopeful," she rephrases, "that when this metamorphosis is complete, radiation levels will completely dissipate."
Metamorphosis? She makes is sound like I'm a butterfly emerging from a cocoon.
She stands up and pushes the chair under the table. "I've got some paperwork to do before I call it a night. Why don't I go finish that and give you some time to let this sink in?"
But I don't want to be left alone. I watch as the woman heads for the door. "Wait," I call out.
She stops at the corner of the table and looks at me.
Although everything she has told me is a big chunk of bad news to swallow, and I don't know how to feel about it, I do know that I want out of this chair. Anyway, what did I expect—for them to let me walk out of here? To be placed in a foster home and go to school? Would I even want that? "You're right." I nod at the walls, indicating the world beyond. "There's nothing out there for me right now." Maybe someday, but not now, I think. "I'll cooperate." Something tells me that this is what they want to hear. The woman gives an upward glance at something behind me. Her face asks, Now what?
A crackle over the intercom and then, "Remove the restraints doctor."
The red haired woman doesn't question this order. As a matter of fact, she seems relieved.
As she unbuckles the straps from around my wrists and ankles, the man continues to speak. "I'm happy to extend this small piece of freedom to you during your stay here, Miss McKenzie. But if through action or inaction you should bring harm to any of my doctors or staff, that freedom will be revoked. Do we understand each other?"
I am free now and the woman helps me to stand. I follow her gaze to the ceiling. There's a middle aged man with a graying beard and mustache, blue eyes and a kind face looking down through a window that angles outward. He's wearing a white doctor's coat and leaning over a microphone. "Yes, sir," I say softly as I rub the red marks on my wrists. I don't know what else to say. "Thank you," I add.
He smiles. "Very good then. With an attitude like that, I think you'll fit in just fine here."
The window fades to black and he is gone.
The woman leads me from the room down a long hallway until we come to a door. Inside there is a bed, a sink, a toilet, a shower, a lamp and a table with a clock that reads 11:40. Everything looks sterile, stainless steel, white or gray. The walls emit a soft glow.
"This is only temporary," the woman assures me, gesturing to the surroundings. "We're working on something much bigger for you. Should be ready in a few days. It hasn't been used in awhile."
I turn and face her. "I've been seeing lights." I'm not sure why I offer this information now, but really, when is the best time to admit something like that?
She cocks her head and contemplates my admission. "Could be a side effect of the changes your body is undergoing. What kind of lights?"
"Blue ones and gold ones. I don't see them all the time. They look like threads of light when they're around things. Other times they seem to be passing through the room like lasers."
She looks perplexed. "Let me think about it. It's late and I need to get some sleep. You should try to get some, too. We're going to run a series of tests over the next few days and you'll need your rest."
I stop her as she starts to close the door. "You haven't told me your name."
She smiles at me through her glass shield. "I'm Doctor Susan Carter. You can call me Doctor Sue. That's what all my kids call me," she adds.
I hear the door lock behind her. I guess they don't want me wandering about the place.
I tell myself to remember to ask her about those other kids the next time I see her. I'm not really tired, so for now, I lie back in bed and watch the light show.
What in the world are these things?