The Silenced by Brett Battles

mind.
    “Appointments?”
    She helped herself to another spoonful. “Doctors. Physical therapy. Prosthesis fittings.”
    “Oh. Great,” Nate said with no enthusiasm.
    “Are you going to take another forkful, or am I going to have to feed you again?”
    Reluctantly, he got some more food and put it in his mouth.
    Orlando watched him eat for a moment. “Look. You can just take this, go home, and live out your life thinking what could have been, or—”
    “Or?” Nate said. “Seems to me there’s no ‘or.’ ”
    “You’re still in shock. Your system is full of drugs.” She paused. “You lost your leg, for God’s sake. Of course that’s all you can see.” She worked a piece of broccoli away from everything else, then picked it up and popped it between her teeth. “But it’s not the only choice.”
    “What then? I’m done being a cleaner.”
    “Why? Because you don’t want it anymore?”
    “No! I want it. I want it more than anything.”
    “So what’s the problem?” she asked.
    “I lost part of my leg. Or hadn’t you noticed?” he said. “Being a cleaner is a physical job. How the hell am I going to be able to keep up?”
    “You’re good, Nate. You have the skills. You know that. Quinn knows that, too.”
    “Quinn thinks I’m done. I could see it in his face when you guys were here earlier. He could barely look at me. He was like one of those people in the movies standing around the bed of someone dying. Great knowing you, good luck on the other side.”
    “You’re right,” she said. “He does think you’re done. But he’s not feeling sorry for you.”
    “What then? He’s already written me off?”
    “Guilt,” she said. “He’s the one who had to make the decision to amputate your leg. And don’t forget, he’s the reason we’re here in Singapore in the first place. This wasn’t a job. This was a personal mission for him. And now he feels responsible.”
    Nate looked away. “Well, you can tell him I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t have been here if I hadn’t wanted to be. That should get rid of his guilt.”
    Orlando scooped up some more food and held it in the air between them. “You or me?”
    Nate picked up his fork again. As he shoved it under the vegetables, he knocked a piece of chicken off the plate and onto the tray.
    Orlando smiled. “It’s good that you’re angry.”
    “Go to hell.”
    “I mean it. You can use that.”
    He put the food in his mouth, chewed it, then said, “Use it for what?”
    “For your rehab. So that when you come back to work, you’ll be even better than before.”
    “As a cleaner? I already told you I physically couldn’t do it anymore.”
    “There’s no way you can know that. Prosthetic devices are pretty amazing these days.”
    “So the doctors have told me,” Nate said.
    “I was reading on the Internet today about a guy from South Africa who’s missing parts of both of his legs. But because of the prostheses he has, a couple years ago he almost made the Olympic team.”
    “As what? A mascot?”
    “Track and field. He’s a runner.”
    That made him pause. “A runner?”
    She nodded. “How much do you want this?”
    “It’s all I want.”
    “Then make it happen,” she said. “Work your ass off. Use the time to study and learn everything you can. Throw yourself into your rehab and your training.”
    He wanted to believe her, but then he thought about his mentor. “Quinn won’t go for it.”
    “He might think you won’t be able to do it, but he’ll give you the chance to prove him wrong.” She smiled. “And I might have a little influence over him.”
    She stood up. “Are you going to finish eating everything?”
    He smiled a little.
    “Oh, progress,” she said.
    “Have I told you to go to hell yet?”
    “So are you going to finish?”
    “I’m going to finish.”
    She took a step toward the door, then turned back. “I’m not just talking about the food.”
    “I know.”
    A whole year had passed since his