Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The e-bike’s motor whined as Mei Lin turned the throttle and pulled into the alley behind the hospital. She kept her chin down and her helmet visor low. The mailbag bumped against her hip with each pothole.
“Door’s clear,” Michael said in her ear. “Two staff smoking by the dumpster. They shouldn’t look twice at you.”
She didn’t trust her voice, so she didn’t answer.
The rear delivery entrance looked the same as the last time she’d seen it. Same chipped paint, same scuff marks. She killed the motor, swung off the bike, and propped it against the wall. The smokers didn’t lift their heads.
She walked inside as if she belonged. The smell hit her first—antiseptic and something faintly herbal from the cafeteria.
It was the last that had memories flitting through her mind, sitting across from Ying and chatting over steaming pots of noodles, telling her friend about the plans she and Ethan were making. “As soon as I get my visa…”
Mei Lin kept her gaze lowered to the once-white linoleum. A nurse in pink scrubs passed her without a glance.
Behind her, a door opened, and she caught the sound of raised voices in the hospital lobby. The first she didn’t recognize, but the second was Ethan, shouting about having flown in…
The door closed, and Ethan faded.
Mei Lin moved past a supply room and down the side hall to a stairwell hardly anyone used. The door clicked shut behind her, and she hurried down a flight to the basement. It was colder here, less antiseptic. She moved along the corridor and turned a corner.
A woman was walking toward her. Short, stocky, and familiar, she had more gray streaking the hair pulled back at her nape. It was Nurse Wen, Mei Lin’s old supervisor.
Keep your head down.
She dug into the mailbag as if searching for something.
Nurse Wen’s footsteps came closer. And then she passed and kept going.
Mei Lin let herself breathe, chancing a look as Wen turned a corner.
In her ear, Michael said, “Don’t look, Mei Lin. Focus ahead.”
How was he watching her? She glanced up and caught sight of a camera.
“What part of ‘don’t look’ didn’t you get?”
She whispered, “Sorry.”
He sighed, because obviously she also wasn’t supposed to talk to him.
She continued past the laundry room, which smelled of soap, and the records office, which smelled of dust. The scents were so familiar, bringing her right back to this place as if she’d never left.
She reached the break room and pushed inside. If it wasn’t empty, she would pretend she was in the wrong place, and then she would have to wait. Fortunately, nobody was there.
The area nearest the door was filled with metal tables surrounded by plastic chairs. There was a teakettle on the counter and an espresso machine that hadn’t been there before. A vending machine hummed against one wall. The room had no windows, just the overly bright fluorescent lights.
She stood in the doorway and rifled through her bag, listening for signs that somebody was in the area where the employees stored their things.
Only silence greeted her.
She slipped around the corner, moving fast, sweeping the row of jackets hanging from hooks. People used to leave their lanyards at the end of their shifts, but there were no lanyards here now.
Had they changed the security system, or just cracked down on the employees?
Lord, now what?
After searching again, hoping she’d missed one, she turned to the cubbies and started rifling. Gloves. Hand cream. A paperback novel. A half-eaten bag of candy. Clothes. Street shoes.
Come on, come on.
If she didn’t find what she was looking for, she’d have no way to get through the locked pathology door. She was almost to the last cubby when she touched something hard and flat.
She pulled it out. An ID badge with a photo of a woman Mei Lin didn’t recognize. The chip on the back should do the trick.
She was sliding it into her sleeve when the break room door opened.
Mei Lin froze.
“…the scene,” a woman was saying in Mandarin. “Did you see?”
A second voice, lower. “I can’t believe Dr. Tsui isn’t here to meet him.”
The first woman laughed. “You’re surprised he forgot? He’s so old, I think he got his medical license during the Ming Dynasty. I feel bad for the handsome American. Perhaps I should offer to distract him.”
“You? You would need a step stool to kiss him.”
Mei Lin’s husband was handsome in every culture. How many women had noticed him in the last six years? How many had offered to distract him?
Mei Lin shook off the disturbing thoughts. She was safe for now, unless the women came around the corner.
Tea poured, chairs scraped. They were settling in.
“I wonder why he’s here,” the first voice said. “To come all the way from America—”
“Must be important. I wonder if Wang will be able to help him.”
Mei Lin’s heart was hammering. She couldn’t stand here all afternoon. What should she do?
There was a bathroom at the end of the cubby row. It was her only chance.
She moved on the balls of her feet, eased the door open and shut. She counted to ten, then flushed the toilet and ran the water.
She walked out of the bathroom and straight into the break room as if she had no idea the women were there. She froze when she saw them.
One of the women looked younger than Mei Lin, the other at least a decade older. They both wore nurse’s scrubs.
Mei Lin let her eyes go wide. “Aiyo. I’m so sorry.
” She spoke Mandarin, allowing herself to sound both surprised and apologetic.
“I had a delivery and my stomach was not good.” She pressed her hand to it as if it still hurt.
“A woman—she had gray hair in a bun.” She was describing Nurse Wen, hoping she was still in charge.
“She said I could use this bathroom. I didn’t mean… I am sorry.”
The older one watched her a beat too long. “Wen sent you down here?”
“I don’t know her name. My stomach was rumbling.
” She dipped her head, going for embarrassed.
“I must go now.” Mei Lin pulled a package from her bag.
“I’ll leave this here, yes? I’m late.” She dropped the package on another table and headed for the door.
“Thank you. Thank you so much.” She stepped outside and into the hallway.
She rushed away, not looking back.
“Hurry,” Michael said in her ear. “That took too long.”
She bit back her reply. At least she’d kept them from calling security.
The sharp, chemical stench of pathology reached her as she neared it. She listened at the door, praying nobody would see her. No noises came from inside, but that was no guarantee the little room between where the doctors worked and the storage area would be empty.
She tapped the badge against the reader. The light turned green, and the door clicked.
She pushed inside.
Through the window on her right, she saw workers bent over desks or focused on screens. Nobody glanced her way.
Thank You.
She slipped into the storage room on her left and pulled the door shut behind her.
The cold hit. It was freezing in here, as it always had been, cold enough that her breath fogged.
Aside from the cold, everything looked different.
There were now shelves down the middle, not just along the edges, two new banks of racks with narrow aisles between.
The original wall units were still there, but when she hurried to where she’d left the evidence, the first jar she picked up was labeled 2022.
“You got it?” Michael asked.
“They reorganized.” She kept her voice low, moving quickly and reading labels, searching for the year she needed.
“We’re running out of time.”
“Thanks,” she said. “That’s helpful.”
“Sorry.” A pause. “Ethan’s doing great. He’s complaining to some guy in a white coat, but people are moving away. It seems the show is over.”
She’d scanned the shelves on one bank, then moved to the next. 2019. 2018.
Finally, she found where the 2014 samples had been stored. She waded through shelf after shelf, pulling jars out, reading labels, and pushing them aside. And then…
There it was, an amber jar labeled with her handwriting, including the patient’s name and the words Infected Tissue: 2014
She unscrewed the lid. Inside, suspended in water meant to look like preserving chemicals, was the small waterproof pouch she’d left six years and another lifetime ago. Her fingers were practically frozen, but she pulled out the dripping pouch. “Got it.”
“Get out of there.”
She returned the jar to the shelf, zipped the pouch into a pocket on her uniform pants, and slipped out of the storage room, then out of pathology and into the hall without being seen.
Now, she just had to get to the stairs.
Someone was coming her way. She was nearly past when she heard a slight gasp.
“Mei Lin?”
It was Ying.
What should she do?
In her ear, Michael said, “Keep walking.”
She did, but then a hand grabbed her arm and spun her around.
“It is you!”
Ying’s hair was shorter, her face a little more seasoned, but it was Mei Lin’s old friend, the only dear friend she’d had when she’d worked here.
“I can’t believe you’re here.” Ying wrapped her in a hug. “What are you doing back?” She pulled away, took in the postal uniform and the helmet, and narrowed her eyes. “What is this?”
“It’s a long story.” Mei Lin tried to smile. “It’s just a job. I needed work.”
“But you were in America with your new husband.”
“Get out of there,” Michael said in her ear. “Now.”
“It’s a long story. I’ll call you.”
“Where are you living? Are you—?”
“I’ll call. I have to finish or I’ll lose the job.” She squeezed Ying’s hand and started walking.
A door at the end of the hall opened.
“Mei Lin,” Ying called. “Wait.”
A man stepped through. He was tall, wearing a dark suit and looking nothing like a physician.
His eyes found Ying first.
Then Mei Lin.
“Run,” Michael said. “Now.”
She turned a corner and sprinted for the exit.