Page 81 of Anarchy Missing

CHAPTER THIRTY - CASE

The beeping of a heart rate monitor is what wakes me. It takes me long seconds to even figure out that’s what the sound is.

“Case?”

“Sheila,” I croak out though my dry throat. “What the fuck is happening?” I try to sit up, my whole body feeling sluggish and achy.

“Don’t sit up,” she says, slight hint of panic in her voice. But she can’t stop me. She’s made of light.

“Where’s Lincoln?” I ask, swinging my legs over the side of the operating chair, dying for a drink of water.

“He’s upstairs sleeping. We’ve been worried about you.”

“How the fuck—” I try to make my eyes open. But the room is too bright. “How the fuck did I get here?”

“Lulu Lightly called Thomas and we came to get you. Do you remember anything?”

“I was on the roof?” I ask, unsure how much to say. I do know I went up to the roof. I remember making the cut. The blood. The coolness of the winter storm. Nothing unusual. So why am I here?

“The way Lulu tells it, Steve woke her up and told her to go out on the roof to get you back inside.”

That dick. I will flick him off for this.

“And she found you. In a puddle of blood. You were unresponsive so we brought you here and injected you with the nanites to try to figure out what’s going on.”

I draw in a deep lungful of air. Hold it. My eyes finally adjust enough to the light to open them a crack. I squint at Sheila, waiting for the bad news. “What’d you find out?”

She does the hologram version of a human shrug. “Nothing. You seem fine. They’ve been running on your system for six hours now and they’ve come back with nothing, Case.”

I let out a long breath of relief.

“I’m not buying it for a second. You’re hiding something from me.”

I rub a hand down my face and then shake my head. “I don’t want to tell you. I feel like something’s wrong and every time I come here I expect you to find it. And every time I go home feeling like it’s all in my head.” I look up at her. “Maybe it is? Maybe I’m crazy?”

I’m expecting a protest from her. Something along the lines of, No, Case. Don’t be stupid. Or, It’s probably lack of sleep. Or stress.

Instead I get what appears to be… agreement.

“Where’s Lulu?” I ask. “Did she go home? She can’t be downtown, things are crazy—”

“She’s here. Upstairs sleeping in the media room. It’s not a good scenario, Case. She’s an assistant DA. They are building a case against Lincoln, for sure. Probably Thomas as well. And maybe even you.”

“Well.” I laugh, but not in amusement. “I would’ve been very pissed off if you had dropped her off in the middle of that mess in Cathedral City.”

“As we figured. So…”

I stand up, testing out my full weight on what I expect to be unsteady legs. But, surprisingly, I feel strong. Not great, but not weak. I look down at the hospital gown. “Do you have anything I can wear?”

“Where are you going?”

“Upstairs, obviously. I need to check on Lulu.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Why not just rest a little longer and I’ll have her come down?”

“Because I want to go up there,” I say, irritated at this whole situation. If Sheila had found something I might feel a little better about all this. But she didn’t. And that’s not good.

Something is wrong with me.