D. MacHale - The Rivers of Zadaa

In a few minutes the doctors would arrive. They would find that Courtney’s vital signs had not only stabilized, but improved. She would not need surgery. The nurses would be at a loss as to what had happened. They would have to scramble to explain why they turned the hospital upside down and got so many doctors out of bed for nothing. The Chetwyndes would arrive and be shaken by the ordeal, but grateful that Courtney was doing so much better.

None of that would happen for a while, though. The young man needed to finish his work first. He glanced once more at the monitors to see Courtney had turned the corner. She was going to live. With a satisfied smile he took his hand off her chest and folded his arms.

“Like I told you,” the young man said, “I give, and I take away.”

He heard a nurse out in the corridor yell, “Last room on the right! Hurry!”

The young man glanced at the door. Soon the entire emergency staff of Derby Falls Hospital would descend on the room to discover their patient had made a miraculous recovery. The young man glanced back to Courtney and chuckled. “I’ve been working such a long time to get this far, you didn’t think I’d let you slip away so easily. This is just getting interesting.”

The team of nurses and a doctor hurried into the room, stopping short when they saw the young man with the blond hair standing next to Courtney’s bed.

“What are you doing in here?” a doctor demanded. “How did you get in?”

“I was just checking on my friend,” the young guy answered innocently. “Is she okay?”

“Let’s hope so,” the doctor said, pushing past the guy, headed for Courtney. “Get him out of here! Do your parents know you’re here?”

“It’s cool,” he answered. “I’m a friend.”

“What’s your name?” the doctor demanded.

The young man casually brushed back the dirty blond hair from his eyes. “It’s Andy,” he said. “Andy Mitchell.”

(TO BE CONTINUED)