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

not as many people are around on the weekends. I'll be back in about twenty minutes."

He walked over to the door, then turned back.

"When the gyro-compass was working, where did you send your Builds, Loretta?"

She shook her head again. That was way too much for him or anyone else to know. Not even her grandmother, the one who'd designed and set up her basement, understood all of it. He shrugged.

"I'm taking the key," he said. "I can't imagine why anyone would, but if someone knocks, don't answer."

Chapter 20

Karl hardly recognized Loretta in the uniform George had smuggled in. Her hair was once again pulled back against her skull and hidden, and the bland gray skirt and jacket hid her figure.

With the badge and the proper bored attitude, she'd easily pass as a member of the medical staff. As long as the halls were as deserted as usual on the weekend, they'd be fine.

Karl had to believe that to have a chance of getting through the next few hours. He stood with his hand on the door to his apartment, wondering if he'd make it back there tonight or get himself fired. Or worse.

"Loretta, you need to listen to me. While you're in here, you have to play by my rules. If we get caught, we'll be in more trouble than even you've known before. You need to do what I say, when I say it. No questions. When you're using the Dragon, you're in charge, but not before. Understand?"

"I don't have any desire to join you here on a permanent basis. I'm quite an expert at keeping my head down. Get me in there, and I'll handle the rest."

Karl set a quick pace through the empty halls, but Loretta had no trouble keeping up with his long strides.

"Where are we going?" she said.

"First is a man who's been here for a while. Mr. Otis is calm most of the time, very friendly. What got him sent up is he hoards things. If we don't watch him every minute, he'll pick up everything he can touch and hide it somewhere in his room. When someone finally went to his house after not hearing from him for a few days, it was so packed full they could hardly walk through."

He was silent for several seconds, wondering if this particular patient might be the worst choice rather than the best.

"I'd hate to imagine what he would do if he could Build for himself," he finally said. "Anyway, the main reason I chose him is his room is against an outside wall. I figure if you aim that thing wrong, nothing will show up embedded in someone else's floor. Or their skull."

"I'll do my best, Karl, but I don't know how well this will work without the gyro-compass."

He stopped at the door to the Green patient wing, closing his eyes and listening. No one seemed to be moving around inside. He opened the door and beckoned Loretta through.

The other big advantage of starting with Mr. Otis was he lived in the calmest wing of the whole hospital, reserved for relatively stable patients with wealthy families. The hallway was far better decorated and maintained than the residential wing, with the walls and floor polished to a mellow gleam, paintings on the walls, and spotless electric and gaslight fixtures.

These folks would get their meals and medical checkups as usual, but the weekends were far more quiet here than in new admissions or around the more challenging patients.

"He's the fourth door on the right," he said. "I'll go in and sedate him if he's not already asleep." He unlocked a solid wood door across the hall. "This room is vacant. And clean. Best if you wait in there."

As soon as Loretta closed the door, Karl knocked as he opened the other one.

"Mr. Otis?"

The small man was sitting up in the middle of his bed, wearing black-rimmed glasses and dark blue pajamas decorated with bright yellow ducks. His legs were crossed under him like a kid.

A huge assortment of bits of colored paper spread out all around him, a constantly changing game only he knew the rules to. His poof of thinning gray hair looked out of place with his little boy pose.

Mr. Otis grinned. "Karl! What a nice surprise."

"What are you working on today?"

Karl held the hospital-issue hypodermic behind his back. He wondered again what Loretta kept in her syringes.

"I'm afraid I've misplaced some of my things again." Mr. Otis sounded content, but his fingers never stopped moving, shuffling and rearranging the paper. The constant motion sounded like wind through tall grass. "I thought they were all over there, but some of them aren't, so I need to have them all together."

"Good," Karl said. "I'm glad you're getting them in the right place. Would you mind if a doctor came in to visit you for a minute? She wants to try a new treatment. It won't hurt. She doesn't even have to touch you."

Karl decided in that instant to test his own theory about not being allowed to Build making the mental symptoms worse. Mr. Otis had been a Builder for more than thirty years, and when he was less agitated he talked about it constantly.

"Of course, of course," Mr. Otis said, his eyes bright but never looking away from the paper. "Over there. A new doctor, that has to be a good thing. A woman too, you say? Is she good to look upon, Karl? Will she be a pleasing sight over there for my old, sore eyes?"

"She is very good to look upon, Mr. Otis. I think you'll like her just fine. I'll bring her in."

Karl stepped out of the room and leaned against the wall. The hall was still empty and quiet. No one was around to stop him from using that sweet man, from possibly hurting him.

But what if it helped him? What if it could help other Builders, maybe even someday figure out how to keep