Chapter 2
2
The strange noise sounded again. Lyla Cruiz woke up from a dead sleep and shot up in her hospital bed, glancing around for any sign of an intruder. Nothing seemed out of place, aside from the sound. A muffled, guttural cry coursed down the hall. She hopped out of bed and tiptoed toward her door, peering out. Nurses and other staff milled about as if nothing was awry.
Am I hearing things? She didn’t think so. She heard a similar noise yesterday and a gagged sniffle last week. It laced through the nights, reminding her too much of the sounds from her cell at the lab. Other experiments crying themselves to sleep. When she first arrived at WANC, Lyla thought it was a memory, etched in her brain, playing on repeat until she fell asleep. It was never loud though, which made her question if it was real. But the more she analyzed it, the more she decided it had to be one of the patients. If it was a memory cropping up, wouldn’t it always be the same volume? This sound changes pitch, tone, and intensity. If Lyla didn’t investigate, her brain would drive her crazy running through all the scenarios or what it could be.
She leaned out the doorway further, feeling a tug at her hand. The IV line stretched taut behind her. Lyla trudged back to the bed, grabbing the metal rack that held the dextrose solution drip. It snaked its way down a plastic tube all the way to her left hand. She stuck her tongue out at it. If she had to spend another month in the hospital dealing with the tests, medicine, and being poked and prodded, she would scream.
Wait! That’s it, that’s the noise. Someone is screaming. But who?
Lyla couldn’t sit around another night, pretending it wasn’t happening. Determination puffed up her chest. She was sick of being scared. This wasn’t the dank cell she was used to. It was a hospital. “I’m safe,” she reminded herself as she rolled the IV bag next to her like a trusty companion. “Sorry for earlier,” she said to the bag. “I didn’t mean it.” She gave it a shy smile.
For months before coming to the FUCN’A hospital, Lyla had no one to talk to, and in that time, she’d picked up the terrible habit of talking to inanimate objects. Though it was deeper than that, and she knew it. She really did feel bad about sticking her tongue out at the bag, as if it had its own feelings. Definitely not normal, but it had helped her to survive the last half a year in the tiny cell she’d called home.
It wasn’t the experiments that bothered her as much as the isolation. Lyla came from what some would consider a big family. The silence of her cell had gnawed at her brain until, out of desperation for company, she befriended a tiny pebble on the floor. She kept that tidbit of information to herself when the psychiatrist at WANC evaluated her soon after her rescue, but she had brought her old friend with her to the hospital. The grey stone now sat at her bedside table, and she explained to the staff that it was more than a souvenir. It was proof she survived. If anyone noticed it and found it odd, they never said. Lyla glanced back at it longingly. She wished she had a pocket to take her trusty rock with her, but alas, the simple T-shirt and shorts FUCN’A provided offered no such luxury. At least they were better than the hospital gown she’d had to wear when she was first treated. That thing barely covered her ass.
Lyla popped her head back into the hallway before taking a bounding step out into it. She nodded to the nurses she passed, plastering a smile on her face. “Out for an evening stroll?” one of them asked.
“You know me. Staying in my room for too long feels like I’m back in that cell.” Or a bird in a cage. Plus, all that hummingbird energy gave her cabin fever. Pacing the halls was far better than pacing her room. And seeing others out and about helped quell the loneliness.
The nurse nodded. “Just let us know if you need anything.” She went back to the paperwork in front of her as if not hearing the muffled screams that had pulled Lyla from her room to investigate.
Why didn’t anyone else seem to hear the noise? It sounded like a wounded animal or someone in extreme mental anguish. Maybe both. In a hospital full of shifters and people who were experimented on, it could be anything.
Maybe they all know who it is. Did that person ask to be left alone? Lyla wondered . She certainly didn’t think the staff ignored the noise because they were cruel. The people at FUCN’A were anything but.
Once again, she wondered if she was somehow the only one who could hear it… which was why she simply thanked the nurse before continuing on in the direction she believed the sound was coming from. Until shew knew it was real and not just in her head, she wouldn’t say a word of it. To anyone.
But she couldn’t keep trying to ignore it. I need to know who’s screaming.
Suddenly, the sounds stopped. So did she. Lyla pretended to adjust her hospital sock as a doctor walked by. It would look odd if she just stood in the hallway, staring at nothing, doing nothing.
A sob echoed out of one of the rooms up on the left. Lyla shuffled her feet forward, afraid to scare off whatever, or whoever, it was. She peeked into the room. The patient appeared to be sound asleep, their long trunk—literally, a long elephant trunk replaced their nose—quivering with a snore. Was that it? Am I mistaken? Lyla scratched at her head, ruffling up the feathers mixed in with her pink hair.
She dyed her hair pink because it was still her favorite color. When she was a child, her whole room at her mom’s house was shades of pink. The feathers adorned her head like a fluffy crown because some whacked-out, evil scientist wanted to see how to change the way shifters looked in human form. And coming out of it with only feathers to show meant she was one of the lucky ones. The sleeping patient before her didn’t appear so lucky. Their human face appeared far too small to support the elephant appendage.
Not wanting to linger rudely in the doorway, Lyla decided to press on. After some consideration, she decided the trunk snoring was not the muffled screams she’d heard earlier, so she kept looking for the source. As she shuffled down toward the next room, another nurse rushed by. It was oddly busy for the night shift. Something must be up . Maybe there was a fresh delivery of rescued shifters in need of fixing. That was, if they could be fixed. Lyla herself had stumped the docs—none could figure out how to rid Lyla of the feathers sticking out of her head.
She poked her head in the next room. There, a lump of a body lay in bed. Wavy, brown hair flowed out from underneath a pillow. Lyla feared something terrible had happened and was about to call the doctor when she noticed the person’s chest rise and fall. They were breathing, at least.
Lyla knocked at the open door, taking a step inside the dark room. “Umm...” She wasn’t sure what to say. What was proper etiquette when you walked in on someone with a pillow over their face? She didn’t know.
The person startled, popping up like a flower that’d just seen the sun after a week of clouds. Lyla noted that she wasn’t just any person. Not just one of a hundred faces that passed through these halls. This was a beautiful woman, clearly startled, and the sight of her made Lyla’s breath hitch.
The stranger’s fluffy brown hair floated around her like a storm, flowing around her face in a tangled mess that she tried to tame with her fingers. Wide blue eyes fixed on Lyla, and Lyla’s heart skipped a beat when their eyes locked. She tried to ignore the flutter of butterflies in her stomach and remember why she was actually out and about. Now that she’d discovered the source of the sound, she could return to her room. Mystery solved.
“I should go.” The words went against every fiber of her being. She wanted to stay, to find out why this woman screamed every night, but what if she was intruding?
“Okay,” the woman agreed. But when Lyla turned to go, she said, “No.”
The woman’s firm voice stopped Lyla in her tracks.
She turned toward the woman’s tear-streaked face. “You don’t want me to go?” Lyla wasn’t sure what to do. Which was it? Go or stay? She had to admit to herself she didn’t mind sticking around. It seemed that whoever they were and whatever had happened to them, they needed a friend.
The patient nodded her head then quickly shook it. “No.”
What the heck? Lyla raised an eyebrow. She crossed the room toward the bed, plucking the patient’s chart from the end of it. Nosiness be damned because confusion got the best of her. Okay. Maybe some curiosity, too. She hoped the person didn’t mind. Lyla glanced up from the chart before opening it, wondering if the woman would stop her from taking a peek. The woman only blinked at her.
Though “woman” didn’t quite describe her. She looked just out of her teens, a few years younger than Lyla. Twenty-one years old according to her chart. “Broca’s aphasia,” she read off of the paperwork, glancing up at the woman who looked back at her with sheer curiosity. Right. I have feathers sticking out of my hair. “They’re my souvenir from Sandy,” Lyla explained with a snicker as she waved one hand around her head, pretending to fluff the sparse plumage. “What’s Broca’s aphasia?” she asked the woman in the hospital bed—whose name was Gabrielle, according to the chart Lyla probably shouldn’t be reading.
“Speech. N-not.” Gabrielle’s brow wrinkled up in frustration. She bit her lip, slamming her fists down on the bed next to her.
Lyla crossed the room, IV bag in tow, to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Can’t speak well. I got it.” She kept her words soft, using the same reassuring tone she used to give her younger brother when he failed a new skateboarding move he was trying to pull off.
Gabrielle’s shoulders deflated with a sigh as relief flooded her pale face. She glanced up at Lyla. “Gabby.” She pressed a hand to her chest, the shadow of a smile on her face.
Lyla noted that though Gabby struggled to talk, she seemed to understand Lyla just fine. Poor thing. Lyla heard some of the doctors talking about birds speaking words, but she didn’t know too much more about the other rescued experiments. A lot of them came from a big bust last year. A few were from the small lab where Lyla was kept. As far as she knew, both were run by Sandy, a demented scientist who thought messing up people’s lives and splicing genes that probably shouldn’t be mixed was cool. An asshole move, if you asked Lyla.
“I’m Lyla.” She decided to introduce herself to her new friend. If she did most of the talking, maybe she could keep Gabby company and frustration-free. It seemed trying to talk and having the wrong words come out led to Gabby’s agitation. Maybe even the nightly screaming. “I’m a hummingbird shifter. I’m a recent addition here. I was rescued by FUC ’n ASS a few weeks ago.”
Gabby started giggling, which was a beautiful and much-improved sound from her distraught neighbor.
Lyla chuckled herself. “So you find the acronyms as ridiculous as I do.” Lyla cast a glance at her IV pole. “I told you so,” she said to the bag without meaning to say it out loud. When Gabby stopped laughing, Lyla inhaled sharply.
Gabby didn’t say anything, but Lyla offered an explanation anyway. “I was kept alone for a while. I’m sure you know what it’s like.” She picked at the skin on the side of her fingernail before getting the courage to look back up at Gabby.
Gabby nodded. “No.” She wrinkled up her cute little nose. “No,” she repeated before throwing up her hands in frustration.
“It’s okay,” Lyla reassured her. “You get words mixed up. Sometimes say the opposite of what you mean?”
Gabby nodded after shaking her head.
“That has to be so irritating. No wonder you scream into your pillow every night.”
A rosy blush crept across Gabby’s pale cheeks. She looked mortified that Lyla knew about the screaming.
“I’m sorry. I just…” Lyla felt a similar heat in her face. She was going to explain when she heard a nurse down the hall calling her name. She glanced at the IV bag. The drip was almost out. It wouldn’t be long before a nurse found her. While she knew they were okay with her walking alone, she wasn’t sure how they’d feel after finding out she’d perused through another patient’s chart. Especially a patient who was maybe unable to protest her doing so.
“I have to go.” She gestured apologetically toward her IV bag. “I’m in room 102 down the hall. Feel free to stop by.”
Without a backward glance, Lyla rushed out of the room, pressing a cool palm to her burning cheek. She’d looked like such a crazy person. Feathers sticking out of her head aside, she’d talked to her IV bag in front of someone. A very cute someone. She wished she could’ve melted into the floor.
“Lyla,” Nurse Mya chided, gripping the full dextrose solution bag in her hand. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” Her high-pitched voice rang down the hallway. Her words suggested she might be upset with Lyla, but the smile on her face contradicted that. Mya could never be properly mad, even if she tried.
The IV stand rolled along, Lyla’s anchor and friend of sorts. Embarrassment grew as Lyla felt all eyes on her. She felt like a kid caught outside of class when she should’ve been studying. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” the nurse reassured her. A smile spread across her face. Lyla didn’t know how the nurse kept up such good spirits working in the rehab wing. “We just need to keep your sugar up.” The fluorescent lights glowed on Mya’s dark brown skin, bouncing off her round cheeks. She had a motherly face, bordering on angelic.
As a hummingbird shifter, sugar was important to Lyla’s diet. And the jerks who kept her locked in a cell didn’t give a damn about that. Lyla’s energy was almost back to normal, but it took a constant glucose drip to keep it that way for the moment. Part of Lyla couldn’t wait to be free of the IV bag, yet another part felt she would miss the constant company. It’s not a living, breathing being , she reminded herself. She fought the urge to apologize to the IV bag for the slight against it.
Lyla followed Mya back into her tiny room. “You going to the party this weekend?” Mya asked, pointing at a flyer on the wall for one of the parties Huggie Gibeault, the Campus Activities Coordinator, was hosting. The fisher shifter tried her best to keep the atmosphere light, allowing everyone a break from their hospital beds. Lyla heard some of the parties were for staff and cadets, too. A nice way to mingle. Getting to know some of the other survivors might not be such a bad idea, especially if Gabby was going… It would be an even better way to get to know her. If anyone needed a friend in this place, it was Gabby.
“I may,” Lyla responded as she reached her door. She shuffled her feet across the floor for fun before settling down into bed. Mya switched out the empty bag for the new one. The coolness of the liquid entered her veins. She wondered how she didn’t notice the sensation had stopped when the fluid ran out.
“Can I go to the computer lab tomorrow?” Lyla wanted to learn more about Gabby’s condition and her family wasn’t supposed to visit until next week. She had plenty of time on her hands. Plus maybe it would help Lyla to talk Gabby into going to Huggie’s party. Plus, maybe she could figure out a better way to talk with Gabby. Watching the torment of her trying to speak was excruciating. Lyla knew it wasn’t her fault, but she still felt bad watching Gabby’s frustration grow. If she could find a way to ease their communication, it might help her new friend to not want to scream into her pillow nightly. Lyla knew the sound wouldn’t bother her as much now that she knew what caused it—and didn’t have to fear it was just in her head. On the other hand—or wing—knowing it was Gabby, and knowing it was the sound of mental anguish, would break her heart. Lyla was determined to help her.
“We’ll see,” Mya said vaguely before leaving the room.
If she wasn’t allowed to wander off, the nurse would have given her an outright, “No.” Lyla’s excitement grew. It buzzed in her chest. At this rate, she wouldn’t sleep at all. It would give her time to think of a way to help Gabby. She thought back to Gabby’s messy hair. It was somehow beautiful, framing her pale face, contrasting with her blue eyes. Lyla shook her head. She couldn’t get ahead of herself. First, she’d find a way to lessen Gabby’s frustration when talking, and then they’d work on their possible friendship. See where that went. And the party? Who knew if Gabby would feel comfortable going? Or going with Lyla. Butterflies buzzed in Lyla’s stomach at the thought of asking her. Nope. One thing at a time. The computer lab was the priority.
For now, she’d have to sleep. “Good night.” She patted the IV bag and smiled at her pebble before rolling over. Tomorrow would be a long day. Before she drifted off to sleep, her mind wandered back to Gabby. She wondered what stories she’d tell after being able to talk again.