Page 61 of Rejected Exile

"The area should be numb now. Let me know if you feel this."

The doctor presses her fingers to my neck, and numbness washes over me. "Not a thing."

"Alright. This will only take a minute."

She opens up the tray of surgical implements and pulls out a scalpel. I swallow and do my best not to think about it as she approaches my left side. Thankfully, the doctor stays out of my line of sight, and I don't have to think too hard.

There's pressure at my neck, and a slight discomfort. I meet Cat's eyes again. She doesn't tell a story this time, but she does give me a soft, encouraging smile. I feel like my heart is beating so hard it might just thump right out of my chest.

"Hold on just a moment." The doctor grabs a set of large tweezers off the tray and gives me a reassuring smile. "It'll be out in just a few seconds. Are you ready?"

"I don't feel anything. It's okay."

"Then let's get this out of you."

I close my eyes as the tweezers come towards me, barely visible in my peripheral vision. They press against my skin, and I wince a little as pressure hits me. There's a small tug. A tingling sensation goes down my left arm, and I grasp onto the edge of the exam table, breathing in slowly through my mouth.

"There we go! All out." Taking a step back, the doctor holds the bloodied tweezers and the microchip up in the air. I feel sick looking at it—so small, yet so large. She grabs a small bag and deposits it inside. "I'll have to turn this in, for tracking purposes. We're not allowed to return them or dispose of them ourselves. It looks like it came out effortlessly, though—you're lucky."

I blink at her as she grabs some gauze and dresses the small cut on my neck. "When will I know if it's worked?"

"Ah." She grabs the instrument tray, sets it aside, and takes off her bloodied gloves before turning back to me, her expression serious. "That part isn't something I can give you much guidance on, unfortunately. There's very little we know about the prions in your blood that enable the shift—how they work, why they work, and why it is that they're not transmittable to other hosts. Even the chips aren't fully understood; the inventor who created them stumbled on their utility as much as anything.

"All I can tell you is that your body naturally produces the prions, and will begin producing them again soon. Whether or not they'll reach the threshold to enable your shift is really up to your body. They say most find their wolf again, but some struggle. Your fellow pack members will be more help with that than I can be. Some things are too spiritual for even the most advanced modern medicine."

That's a long way to sayI don't know, and I can't help you,but her smooth, cool voice is somehow reassuring. From now on, the rest of this is in my hands, for better or for worse.

"Thank you," I tell her. "So much."

"Don't thank me yet." The doctor gives me a wry smile. "We're going to have to sit here and wait for another thirty minutes or so, just to make sure you're not about to have some kind of allergic reaction. After that, you can leave, so thank me then."

I glance at Cat. She sighs, and clears her throat.

"This one time in undergrad, I was studying in my dorm late at night..."

Trust Cat to be capable of filling up thirty minutes of empty air.

* * *

"Feel anything?"

I glance over at Cat as we roll to a stop sign several blocks away from the house. "Nothing. But it could take days or weeks. Or never."

"At least you've got a chance now." Cat sighs and shakes her head. "I hate the waiting, though. I'm not made for this kind of suspense."

"Me neither. I think I should get my mind off things—maybe do some work at the house."

"Didn't you text the guys to come over after noon? It's currently... ten thirty."

"I can always do some of the small jobs. Test paint samples, start the tile backsplash in the kitchen, twiddle my thumbs." My hand goes up instinctively towards my neck, like it always does in times of stress, but instead of a scar to nervously scratch at there's a huge gauze bandage. "Guess I need a new nervous habit."

Cat's eyes flit to my neck then back to the road. "I don't know how I didn't figure it out sooner. I should have—maybe if I had, I could've gotten you help while you were a teenager."

"It's not your fault. No one in the US has seen these chips in decades. Besides, I didn't notice, and it was in my own damned body."

"Yeah, you're right." Cat turns her rental car onto the main street the house is on. "I should do some work on the house too. I've got all this nervous energy and nowhere to put it."

"I'm pretty sure I'm going to go mad if I don't find something to do."

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