Chapter 25 Choice
I’m woken up by a phone call from Shreya. We’ve been texting on and off, but I haven’t updated her on what I just learned.
“Oh, sorry! I didn’t realize the time. Never went to sleep!” She sounds way too awake for someone who has just pulled an all-nighter. “I haven’t slept in days. The whole thing is terrifying, to be honest.”
“I’m sorry,” I offer. “It’s been—”
“Sorry?” Shreya breaks in. “The fuck are you sorry for?”
“It’s my fault you got dragged into this mess.”
“I don’t know whether to reassure you or to be astounded at your arrogance.”
“My arrogance?”
“You believe that you have control over demons and what they do? That you’re responsible for stopping them? Now, I won’t lie and say this hasn’t shaken me,” she continues, “but mostly I’m just amazed that you’ve survived on your own for what? Over a month?”
“It’s not done yet,” I say.
“Yes, about that. I’ve been reading about reports of demon magic and gifted powers.”
I’m a lot more awake now. I reach for my magic, but it’s still too weak to be of much use. “Any word on a turbocharger?”
“I found an ancient Hindu text—long believed to be apocrypha written by a madwoman—that describes ‘energies gifted from the gods.’ She says that as long as a kernel of power remains in you, your own spirit will naturally replenish and refill it, the way trees lose their leaves and grow them again. The only way to lose the power is to use it all up at once, completely.” Shreya’s voice kicks up a notch in excitement.
“She mentions that it is possible to experience something roughly translated as a ‘surge’ either through a moment of great personal… ‘triumph’? Or through the demon giving you a bit more power.”
I fall back against my pillows. “Fuck. That’s not going to help me.”
“The way I see it, you’ve been experiencing small moments of triumph every day. Maybe you need to try using one to supercharge your power. I don’t know how it works, but quite frankly, neither do you, so why not try?”
I want to scream at the absurdity of it all, but instead I say, “Thanks. It’s better to have some hope than none at all.”
I want to drown in my own fear, in the desire to do nothing. But instead, I force myself to roll out of bed. My feet hit the ground, and I move forward.
The protesters are so loud, I feel myself pushed back a pace when I round the corner.
They’re absolutely everywhere. There are probably ten protesters for every patient that we’re going to see today.
But a quick scan of the crowd reveals that many of them are schoolchildren, probably here on a private-school field trip.
I almost feel a little bad for the underpaid women who are supposed to be managing a hundred children protesting a topic they know nothing about.
Right next to them is a guy wearing a shirt proclaiming “I Concealed Carry” and holding a sign plastered in 3-D resin-covered fake bloody tissues that reads “Don’t Murder Babies.
” Steve looks pretty weirded out by it, too.
Our efforts yesterday have limited today’s load to the first half of the day, with most patients arriving first thing in the morning to get dilated.
The mad dash in the morning isn’t ideal, but once everyone is in their procedure or recovery room, I’ll basically be in the clear. I’m counting down the hours in my head.
Then I see JJ standing in the lot, and my brain grinds to a halt. She’s not wearing a vest, so I don’t think she’s gone inside.
I force a smile on my face. “Hey, did you get my text? We’re already covered for today.”
“Doesn’t look like anybody else is here,” she says, gesturing around. She looks nervous. “We’ve already had three patients arrive.”
“Good work, but JJ, really…” I take a deep breath and know I can’t maintain the facade. “I know. I know what you’ve been doing. So just… please go. Or—”
JJ’s face changes. Hardens, solidifies. “You can’t make me,” she says. “My dad is friends with the police.”
“Why are you doing this?” I demand. “In college, you weren’t like this.”
“We all regret who we were in college,” she snaps. “This place is wrong. I’m just doing my part.”
“You don’t even sound like you believe it,” I say. “What, did your family offer you early access to your inheritance or a path to the United States Senate or something if you helped them get rid of us?”
I can see on her face that I’m right, and I scoff. “That’s pathetic, JJ, really. You’re just a sellout who can’t hack it alone, huh?”
“Better that than a has-been,” she snaps. “Stuck working at some third-rate murder clinic!”
There’s fire in me, close to the surface, and it feels good.
I should be sad about losing JJ, but right now all I feel is strength coursing through me.
“Your family might be able to give endless cash to Fox News and OANN and scammy crisis pregnancy centers and all those pastors who preach hate, but for all your power, we’ve survived.
Daddy’s money can’t even beat one measly clinic.
People will keep getting abortions. Aren’t you tired of being such a loser? ”
“You people are the losers, dragging down the rest of us. Bribing people to support you, stacking the odds, but we’re evening the playing field—”
“What, you mean the demon?”
Shock flares across her face, but she masters it quickly. “Look at you! Think you know it all, don’t you?”
I grab her wrist. “JJ, what do you have planned? If you care about life, then stop this madness.”
She tries to tug out of my grasp, but I hold fast. “Don’t talk to me about caring for life. I’m doing what I have to do. I offered you so many outs. I’ve been trying to save you, you pathetic idiot! We literally asked that demon to spare you, even after you really pissed him off, and—”
She stops herself, as though remembering we are not friends anymore and she shouldn’t be revealing her dastardly plans to me.
I consider trying to force the information out of her.
The magic flows sluggishly under my skin, but I am willing to give it a try, until I look into her eyes.
Though I hate that she still has any power over me, I can’t forget that she showed me a bit of mercy. I release her.
“Okay, then!” I say with forced cheer, letting a smile stretch across my lips. “Have a great day!”
As expected, she is too bewildered to respond, and I use that beat to slip away, just as the uncle and aunty squad arrives.
They seem baffled about what to do in the face of children.
I watch an Uber approach the clinic, then stop when the driver sees the protesters.
After a brief pause, a person emerges, red-faced.
This happens sometimes. We recommend that patients don’t take Ubers or Lyfts because drivers sometimes refuse drop-offs, but people don’t have many options.
I head toward the patient and escort them inside.
“Diane, JJ is on the property and she won’t leave. I’m going to go back out there to keep an eye on her, but can you watch her on the camera?”
“Of course,” Diane says. “But, honey, she’s not there anymore.”
“What?” Fuck. “Okay, I have to go back—”
There’s a popping noise, followed by a scream. Before my brain can even comprehend what I’ve heard, my body is in motion. I lock the door and push the metal bar over the entrance. Lockdown protocol. Diane is on her feet, staring at the monitor. She grabs her phone, already dialing.
“There’s been a shooting at Rogers Park Health Center. The clinic is going into lockdown.”
The patients waiting around us rush toward the door, but I hold up my arms to block them.
“In here is the safest place to be. Our doors lock from the inside, and our windows are bulletproof. Please, come with me to the back.”
Was this JJ’s plan? Was she carrying a gun just now?
The aunties, the children—no. I can’t think about it, not when I need to follow procedure.
Everyone follows me into the health wing, and I make sure to collect any ambulatory patients along the way.
I glimpse Aaron and Dr. Levy, but I have to assume they’re obeying their own protocols.
Instead, I make a beeline for the recovery wing and find Dan and Nina, the nurses who basically run this part of the clinic, conferring with our temporary PA.
“The back door is already locked,” Nina says. “We’ll take care of things over here. Diane shouldn’t have to wait for the police alone.”
“Be right back,” I tell her.
Dr. Levy and Aaron both emerge into the hallway as I approach, looking worried. Aaron is rubbing his nose with his wrist, a sure sign he’s fighting some strong emotion and trying to keep calm.
“Nisha,” Dr. Levy says, “I think we may need an ambulance for one of the patients.”
“What?” In all my time working here, I can only remember one other time we’ve needed an ambulance. “Now?”
“I’m going to have Aaron call it in, but I wanted to make sure emergency vehicles can safely approach. Why are we in lockdown? If it’s a drill—”
“Shots fired,” I tell her. “The police are on their way, probably ambulances, too. That said…” I think the police will come when called for reported gunshots, but they could still slow-walk it.
The doors to the lobby swing open. “It’s chaos outside,” Diane says. I realize she’s been crying, although she appears entirely calm. “Hard to tell who was hit. It looks like someone threw a smoke bomb, and people are banging on the doors, trying to get in. There may have been a stampede.”
A single, large tremor goes through Dr. Levy’s body. Aaron is frozen.
“Okay, we have an ectopic pregnancy back there who is showing signs of rupture, but maybe—”