Weakness

by Pauline Creeden -

“I saw your father.” Dr. Lee’s voice rose just above a whisper, his back turned to her as he examined her blood in the microscope.

Zana bolted upright and nearly jumped from the examination table.  But she lost her balance and fell hard on her right elbow. The bone rang like a tuning fork. “What?”

“Your blood work looks good.” Dr. Lee turned around, his blue eyes round and grey-brown brows furrowed above. “Zana, you shouldn’t move suddenly; I took two pints of your blood. If your blood weren’t so rare, I wouldn’t need to take as much each visit.  If you get injured again…”

“No,” Zana’s said with as much ferocity as she could muster in a prone position. She pointed a metal finger at the doctor and continued, “That’s not what you said.”

Dr. Lee dropped his arms to his sides and met her eyes. His brows raised in a plea for forgiveness.  He shrugged as he said, “I saw him a month ago at the general store in Currituck.” Dr. Lee’s gaze explored the wall, ceiling, and finally settled on the window. “The man looked old, haggard, and tired.  He wore circuit preacher robes.  Whether it’s a disguise or not, I don’t know.”

Her heart raced in her chest. Zana’s voice shook as she spoke through clenched teeth. “I’ve been here for three days, and now you tell me?”

“You’re going to need to rest a day or two from the blood loss before you go.”

“You did that on purpose.”

Dr. Lee nodded, refusing to meet her icy stare.  “It was a month ago, he could be anywhere now.”

Zana folded her arms across her chest, feeling the cold titanium of her left arm through the gauzy fabric of her shirt.  She stared at the ceiling and said in a soft voice, “I will find him.  And when I do, he’s dead.”