The Dream Thief, Kari Kilgore [reading well TXT] 📗

restless is every few weeks, and my friend noticed a bunch of new people getting hauled out here a few weeks ago. What if they're related?"

"I don't..." George looked at him, scowling. "Well, I hadn't thought about it, but you could be right, Karl. Even if it's not something we can stop, maybe we can at least let people know. I don't know who would possibly believe the likes of us, but it might be worth a try."

"You said they do everything they can to keep trouble with the ’sters a secret," Karl said. "Do you think there's any record we could look at? Something like the admissions records I found?"

George opened his mouth, then closed it in a frown.

"Not anything official," he said, "not that either of us could get hold of even with a master key. But when one of these things really blows its top, assuming it has a top, shit's gonna get broken. I'd bet there are records of the repairs and replacements somewhere. Infirmary records might help, but that's probably harder to get to. One thing I don't have to go looking for. That bunch of new patients you were talking about a few weeks ago?"

"Yeah?"

"They didn't just hire new nurses to deal with that," George said. "Our workload was crazy then, too, and not only from making sure new beds were ready. We had a bunch more repairs and replacements, way more than we could keep up with. Most of them out where the ’sters are, Karl."

Karl tried to force himself to slow down, but his brain was running away with him. The last thing he needed was to freak out or just annoy one of the few people he could talk to, but he was certain they were about to stumble onto something huge. He didn't quite know what it could be yet, and that long-numb part didn't care.

"I'd just about promise that won't be the only time this all matches up," Karl said. "I think I can get back into admissions, probably early in the morning. I'll just see when those jumps seem to happen. When can you get a look at the supply records?"

George shook his head, but he was smiling. "Tomorrow. I'm one of the saps who has to make sure we're ordering what we need. Not nearly the honor my boss seems to think it is, especially when I have to help haul a few boatloads of it in from the docks or off a supply train. But it might come in handy for once. You sure you want to get into this mess? It might be a one-way ticket into a lot more trouble than losing our jobs."

Karl closed his eyes, trying his best to put that whirling, ravenous part of his brain aside for at least a few seconds. Why had he gotten into all of this to start with, once he put aside his own desire to finally do something that mattered?

Andy was generally a levelheaded kid, way better at dealing with family dynamics at his age than Karl was at nearly thirty. He didn't get worried over nothing. That fear had been real, and finding out there might actually be something to it did nothing to discourage Karl.

"I'm sure, George. I'm not even going to pretend the chance to do something different, something interesting, for a change isn't part of it. And I doubt I could forget all about it now. Could you?"

"No, I couldn't," George said. "Whatever made that ’ster in the first place was bad enough, but what it did the other day was too much for me. I don't want to see anything like that again as long as I have a marble or two left rattling around."

Chapter 7

Karl jumped when someone touched his shoulder at lunch the next day, barely managing to keep from dropping his food. It still wasn't spectacular, but more than the mechanical conveyor seemed to be working better in the cafeteria.

"Mind if I join you for a minute?" George said.

"Sure thing, Georgie. Over here by the window again?"

"Works for me."

George's own tray held only empty plates, but he carried it to the table anyway. Karl couldn't remember his old friend looking so lively for a long time. He looked almost as excited as Karl felt.

"So, how'd your morning go?" George was smiling, but he raised both dark eyebrows and glanced from side to side.

"I...uh..." Karl said, scrambling to follow his friend's lead. "I think a pattern is becoming clear, a lot more than I thought it would. I may be onto something. You?"

George nodded. "The same old thing just keeps happening over and over again. Seems like it's been going on for a few years now."

Karl lowered his voice and leaned in.

"Any reason for the codes?"

"I don't know, maybe," George said. "I need to do a little overtime tonight, starting around seven. Think you can get free to go with me?"

"Yeah, sure. Where?"

"Meet me at your commons. What I need to work on is in your building, as a matter of fact." George grabbed his tray and stood, and he actually winked at Karl. "See you then."

The rest of the day was a blur to Karl, his mind focused on what could have possibly been so exciting that George wanted to meet him early. He barely paid attention to what he was doing until nearly time to clock out and get ready.

His next to last patient was a woman who hadn't been there long. The first thing to interrupt the whirlwind of Karl's thoughts was realizing she'd come in with the big group that started all of this.

The second was her fingers digging into his forearm.

"Don't miss it." Her voice was a high-pitched hiss; the repeated words so fast they ran together. "Dontmissitdontmissitdontmissit."

Karl covered her hand with his own. He was sure she was drawing blood.

"It's okay, Mrs. Labine. What do you think I'm missing?"

"No one ever looks, no one ever sees," she whispered, her