Undetectable (Great Minds Thriller) (27 page)

He began walking, slowly and carefully, in the direction of the doctor’s office. It was only eight blocks away.
“This had better be a pretty good doctor,” he said to the ground. And to his feet, which were moving with agonizing slowness.

The three painters, nearly finished loading up their tools and supplies into the white vans for the day, spared a glance for the large, stooped-over man who went shuffling past them. He was young and strong-looking, this man. And yet he seemed injured. Or drugged. He seemed barely able to walk. His breathing was labored, and he was muttering to himself.

“Only in the city,” one of them said under his breath, after the big man had passed by.

The Syringe Was In His Neck

After what seemed like an eternity of walking, Kevin
made it to 64th street
. He was proud of himself.

He came to the awning marked 136,
and if he had had the strength
he would have put his head back and yodeled in self-congratulation. The doorman opened the door, took one look at him, and pointed wordlessly to a door ten feet away, just across the main lobby.

It was a chasm to Kevin Brooks, but he would cross it.

He made it to the door, and then he managed to summon the strength to knock. The door opened, and there was the doctor. He was dressed in the standard white coat, a stethoscope draped over his neck in the classic boa style. He stepped back to let Kevin in, pulling him gently toward him and inside like a father welcoming a wounded, long lost son.

Kevin saw the flash of something sharp, a tiny needle in the doctor’s hand, and before he had the chance to even open his mouth in protest the syringe was in his neck. He barely felt it go in. Then the doctor pulled the needle
back
, and now he was holding Kevin under the arms, holding him gently, supporting his weight, saying nothing.

Waiting.

A surge of clarity. Of strength and life and light.

Kevin stood back quickly. Stood
up
. “What was that?” he said, his fear and energy rising like the mercury in a superheated thermometer. “What did you just do to me?”

“
That’s
more like it,” the doctor said, assessing Kevin with a critical eye. He looked him up and down as though checking for cuts and bruises. He seemed pleased. “Better now?”

“Better?” Kevin was flabbergasted. “You can’t just
stick
someone with a needle, you can’t – ”

But then he stopped himself. He was aware, even as he was speaking, of the silly, petulant sound of his own voice. He took a breath
and
felt his legs underneath him. They were supporting him perfectly well. Naturally. As they were supposed to do. The doctor regarded him calmly. Still with that critical eye, and still looking pleased. “Thank you,” Kevin said finally.

“Your welcome,” the doctor said. “Now, let’s get to it.”

Doctor Petak

“Who are you?” Kevin asked. He was still feeling uneasy. This man had helped him, that much was undeniable. But he was not accustomed to having strange people stick him in the neck with needles. Then again, he was accustomed to
nothing
that had been going on for the last three days.

“I’m your doctor,” the man said, extending a hand. “Dr. Petak.”

Kevin shook his hand, grateful again for the strength that had somehow returned to him. He was able to stand up straight, to shake with a firm grip. And to think with some measure of clarity.

“Since when?”

“Since now.”

“What did you give me?”

Petak shook his head. “Nothing you’ve heard of.”

“I’d still like to know.”

“It was a combination of things, actually.”

“
What
things?”

The doctor sighed. “
Illegal
things, Mr. Brooks. Things that will get you through the next few hours. Things you don’t want to know you’ve taken, in case anyone asks you later on.”

Kevin looked around him, at the little room that seemed to be Petak’s waiting area. Then he looked over Petak’s shoulder as if scanning for hidden cameras. “What are you talking about? Who’s going to ask me?”

“No one. I’m only being cautious. Let’s go into the examination room, shall we?”

“Why?”

The doctor opened his hands, and he gave Kevin a pleading look. “Mr. Brooks, the standard practice is to conduct evaluations not in the waiting room, but in the place that contains actual diagnostic tools. Ophthalmoscope, tongue depressors, that sort of thing. We
can
proceed out here if you prefer, but in either case I will be able to accomplish nothing, nothing at all, if I don’t have your trust. Were it not for the injection I just gave you, I believe you would be down on my carpet at this moment. Probably unconscious, and possibly worse.”

Kevin nodded silently. For the second time in less than five minutes, he was feeling like a spoiled little boy. “You’re right.”

“Fine. So, in the office or on a couch?”

“The office.”

“After you, then.”

They stepped into the examination room, which was completely unremarkable. It looked like every doctor’s office Kevin had ever been in. The padded table with the strip of sanitary paper pulled over it, the small tool chest with cotton swabs and a thermometer on top, the little wall rack with the stainless steel tools for checking eyes and ears and reflexes, and the other wall rack with the blood pressure cuff. “Okay, sit down,” Petak said. “Let’s have a look and a listen.”

Kevin sat on the table, and Petak checked his eyes
,
his heart
,
his breathing, and his blood pressure. Petak was very quick; the entire process lasted less than a minute. “Fine,” he said, and took a step back. He squinted his eyes and peered at Kevin. “You look terrible, but you’re alive and still walking. Which is pretty good under the circumstances.”

“What
are
my circumstances? What’s happening to me?”

“Relax. That’s what we’re going to figure out. Tell me all your symptoms.”

Kevin frowned. “You won’t believe me.”

“Yes I will. Stop acting like a fool and just tell me.”

“I can’t – ” Kevin stopped. He studied Petak’s face, which was still as calm and open as it had been since the first moment Kevin had arrived. There was nothing to suggest subterfuge about the man. No hint of guile, or even humor. He was a doctor, asking his patient to explain the problem. Kevin felt his shoulders go down an inch, and he exhaled. He discovered that even the prospect of telling someone about his situation made him feel better.

“I haven’t slept in three days.”

“Right,” Petak said, as if Kevin had told him he had a tickle in his throat. “Haven’t slept
much
, or not at
all
? This is important.”

“Not at all. Not for one second since – ”

Since what? Since waking up sitting at a desk in an empty classroom? Was I sleeping before that? I don’t know.

“ – since Tuesday morning,” he finished.

“Okay,” Petak said. “Keep going.”

“I can’t remember anything that happened to me before this past Tuesday. For three months before that.

“Okay, what else?”

“Um. That’s pretty much it.”

Petak opened his hands again, and his expression darkened. “Cut it out,” he said, and now there was a trace of annoyance in his voice. “What
else
?”

Kevin hesitated. But then he seemed to realize that keeping silent was useless, and after another moment he gave up entirely. “I’m hearing voices,” he said. “I’m supposed to get ready for something. I’m supposed to be
doing
something.”

Petak was nodding. “Good, okay. What else?”

“Time stops every so often,” Kevin said. He figured he would keep spilling his guts until Petak gave him a skeptical look. But the doctor continued to look only mildly interested. Bored, even.

Yes, many of my patients have complained about time stopping. It’s a bug that’s been going around. Make sure you get enough fluids.

“Sometimes it only slows down,” Kevin added, trying to clarify. “But sometimes it honestly seems to come to a complete halt. Clocks stop moving. It’s driving me nuts.”

“Right, what else?”

Seriously? No questions about the time thing?

Petak made a rolling, beckoning gesture. “Come on, what else?”

Kevin considered. “On the plus side, I can read like a machine. My memory for new information seems really good all of a sudden.”

The doctor nodded. He looked satisfied now, and Kevin had the impression that Petak had simply been waiting for Kevin to speak these things aloud. That he had known all his symptoms before he had even walked through the door. It was a disquieting thought, but it was also strangely comforting. If Petak knew all these things, then maybe he really
could
help.

“Oh, and apparently I smell like absolute piss,” Kevin said. He tried to smile good naturedly. “Which you probably already noticed. Not sure if that’s related or if I just need to change soaps, but I’m trying not to leave anything out.”

The doctor grinned for the first time. “Right. Good job.” He reached over and put a hand on Kevin’s arm, as though to congratulate him for his willingness to open up. “You’re going to be all right,” he said. “And except for the exhaustion – which we’ll address – physically you seem okay. Better than okay, actually. Much stronger and fitter than before.”

Something clicked in Kevin’s head.

“Wait. You’ve seen me before this? When?”

Petak nodded. He wagged his head from side to side, counting to himself. “Almost two months ago.”

Kevin felt his legs go numb. He was glad he was already sitting down, otherwise he thought he might have collapsed on the spot. This man was a connection, an actual link to whatever had happened to him. To whatever had started all this. He knew it all, he knew
everything
, he –

“I don’t know that much,” Petak said, reading the excitement in Kevin’s eyes. And doing his best to squelch it.