Page 118 of Whispers in the Dark
Charlotte looked into his eyes, understanding gripping her. This was the first mile in the marathon.
She watched Tristan attach the IV drip to the port on the central line and start it.
“I’m here, Alex,” she whispered. “You’re safe.” She repeated herself every thirty seconds.
Forty-five minutes in, his eyes widened, breath shallow and panicked.
She leaned in. “You’re in the hospital. You are Alex Marcel.”
Tears welled in his eyes. “I… tried… Didn’t forget you…”
“You didn’t,” she said, her voice breaking. “I’ve got you.”
His hand closed over hers. Weak. But real.
From the hallway, James Blackwell rushed in. “I got here as soon as I could. I was mid-surgery.” He scanned his patient then gloved up at the bedside. “What the hell did they do to him?”
Tristan looked up. “That’s what you’re going to find out.”
Charlotte held his hand like a lifeline, her words reassuring. Alex Marcel began to come back. Piece by piece. Breath by breath.
Thirty-Eight
James Blackwell,his white coat half on, scrub pants tucked into worn sneakers, flicked his gaze from monitor to patient with rapid precision. “Vitals?” he asked without preamble.
“Stabilizing, barely,” Paul answered. “Temp’s dropped to 102.8. Oxygen at 93%. Intermittent consciousness. Responsive to voice, specifically Charlotte’s voice. But we found this—” He tapped the light box on the wall, pulling up a scan of Alex’s spine.
James narrowed his eyes as the image resolved into full view. “Spinal implants?” he announced sharply. “It looks like some form of deep brain stimulation. DBS works by modulating the activity of neural circuits that are involved in motor control. Looks like they modified it to affect the ability to think and maintain memory.”
“Two,” Tristan said, handing over the tablet. “One at the base of the skull at C3, the other at L1. Bioelectrical pulse pattern detected in both. Not standard neurostimulators—these are something else.”
James scrolled through the scan with practiced fingers, zooming in on the electrode near the occipital ridge. “Cortical interfacing,” he muttered. “But it’s not reading motor function. These aren’t for movement or pain. I need more information.”
Tristan sighed. “They’re reformatting him from the inside. Slow. Controlled. Like rewriting a hard drive without wiping it first.” He scanned the monitors. “He was given some drugs, and we were given some of the antidote. We’re analyzing them now.”
Charlotte remained beside Alex, gently stroking his hair, her voice barely above a whisper. He was listening. Breathing deeper now. Her hand held his.
James glanced at her. “Whatever you were given—it pulled him out of something designed to trap his function permanently. But that doesn’t mean he’s out of danger.”
Charlotte looked up, eyes raw. “Can you get those things out of him?”
James hesitated. “Not yet. If I pull them now, I risk destabilizing everything. They’ve already interfaced with key structures—hippocampus, brain stem relay, spinal nerve bundles. If I cut those connections too early…”
“He could lose everything,” Tristan finished grimly.
“More than that. It will kill him.” James frowned.
“But you can remove them?” Charlotte gripped Alex’s hand tighter.
James stepped closer to the bed, studying the man who lay broken but breathing. “Yes. If he stabilizes, and if we can map the full spread of integration, I can remove them surgically. But we need imaging, time, and Alex to hold on a little longer.”
Tristan ordered a stat CT scan of his brain and spinal cord.
Paul looked over. “He’s got fight left. Whatever they put in him, they didn’t kill who he is. But whatever they injected into his spinal fluid, or the act of the injection itself, is causing meningitis. We’re waiting for the spinal fluid exam results. I’m leery of starting the wrong anti-infective.
“I’ve seen what prolonged neuro-implantation like this can do. They use it to treat Parkinson’s, and it may map brainfunction for tumor removal. In the early days, the results were disastrous. If these people tried this on others?—”
“They already have,” Charlotte cut in.
