Terrorbyte by Cat Connor Page B

neurologist.”
    â€œOn a Sunday?”
    He may as well have spoken Manchurian for all the sense he made. I searched my memory and still had no idea what he was talking about, which I think he realized.
    â€œEllie … it’s a follow-up from your smack on the head last year.”
    Damn, we still on that? I thought we were over the whole fractured skull/coma thing. I didn’t remember having an appointment.
    â€œOn a Sunday?”
    â€œWe thought Sunday would be better than midweek, and the doc works weekends; who knew?”
    â€œOh, right, now I remember,” I said, trying to sound convincing.
    He grinned at me. “You still have no fuc’n idea, do you?”
    â€œNot a one,” I replied. “Works Sundays? Sees patients? Man, he’s dedicated.”
    â€œHe’s seeing you . He’s usually only here Sundays to do rounds.”
    We made our way to the doctor’s reception desk and then through to the waiting room.
    I sat. Stood. Paced. Repeated the cycle several times.
    My watch said we’d been waiting for half an hour. Thirty-minutes! Surely, it wasn’t that difficult to run on time; why didn’t they just allow the correct amount of time per patient? I remembered what Mac told me about Leon working weekends. If he was only here doing rounds and to see me, then I really expected punctuality.
    I checked my watch again. “Five more minutes and we’re out of here. I don’t have time for this waiting shit.”
    I leaned on the windowsill and glowered through the hazy film that had built up on the outside of the window. I knew Mac was grinning. I also knew he hated waiting as much as I did. My phone hummed once then silently vibrated on my hip. I checked it, hoping it would provide me with an excuse to leave.
    â€œYou’re not supposed to have your phone on inside the hospital,” Mac reprimanded, his voice barely above a whisper.
    â€œTough. I’m sure they’ll get over it. If we hadn’t waited so long we’d have been out of the hospital by the time he texted me anyway.”
    He nodded, as if he agreed with me but I knew better; he was being agreeable.
    â€œWho is it?”
    â€œCaine, he wants us in the office A-sap.” I started for the door only to find Mac’s hand firmly on my elbow.
    â€œNo you don’t. You’re having this check-up.”
    â€œA-sap,” I said, attempting to extradite my arm from his grip. “He said A-sap.”
    â€œHe’ll wait. He wouldn’t want you to miss this either.”
    Damn! No escape.
    A young nurse poked her head around the door. “Gabrielle Conway?”
    Mac’s hand squeezed my arm, prompting me to reply to the nurse. “Yes,” I said.
    She smiled, revealing teeth covered in colorful braces. “Dr. Kapowski will see you now.”
    â€œGreat.” I sucked in my impatience and tried to ignore the thoughts generated on seeing braces. Since when did they hire twelve-year-olds as nurses? “Excellent,” I said, and gave her a quick smile.
    The theme song to Doogie Howser, M.D. rampaged through my mind as we followed the teeny-bopper nurse to the doctor’s office. I finally succeeded in quelling the dreadful music with a deep breath and an internal ‘Shut up!’
    A door opened and the nurse stepped aside, allowing us room to enter. Leon Kapowski stood up to greet us.
    â€œMac, good to see you again.” He leaned forward and clasped Mac’s hand, giving it a good hearty shake, then turned to me. “Ellie, how are you?”
    â€œOkay.”
    Mac’s smile didn’t escape me. I gave his upper arm a flick.
    Leon gestured to the chairs by his desk. “Sit.”
    Surprisingly, his command wasn’t accompanied by a hand signal. I had a quick look at my own hands; yes, I had hands, not paws. Opposable thumbs. No fur. I hadn’t suddenly become a puppy in obedience school.
    â€œHave a seat? Is