But he does have enough chutz to ask my permission before using it.
Kit shifts nervously behind us. Even Doc looks worried about my reaction to the illicit drug. Only Evie, her face mashed against the metal wall, her feet muddy and calloused, doesn’t care.
“Use it,” I say, standing. Doc rips the med patch open, and I can hear the sigh of submission from Evie as the chemical seeps into her system. Doc asks her to stand and follow him to the Hospital, and she silently obeys.
I trail behind them. Evie’s emptiness was worse than the mindlessness I’d seen in the Feeders when they were still on Phydus. I think back to Amy’s dull, Phydus-drugged eyes—Doc said she had a bad reaction to it. Is Evie having a bad reaction to being off it?
“Take her up to one of the rooms on the fourth floor,” Doc tells Kit.
I shoot Doc a look as Kit walks Evie to the elevator.
“The fourth floor just holds regular patient beds now,” Doc says firmly. He knows what I’m thinking—about the grays, and the clinical way Doc killed them under Eldest’s orders to make room for more younger people. “Would you like me to give you my weekly report now, while you’re here? We can go to my office. ”
I nod and follow him silently into the elevator. When it reaches the third floor, we both get off, leaving Kit and Evie to continue to the fourth floor. Doc leads me to his office. I pause at one door—Amy’s. I want to turn right and go to her. I just want to give her my apology over and over until she accepts it. But instead, I turn left and enter Doc’s office.
“The Hospital’s been so busy lately,” Doc says. “This is the first time I’ve had a chance to come to my office in two days. I’m sorry for the mess. ”
I snort. The office looks immaculate, but that doesn’t stop Doc from immediately straightening the papers on his desk.
The Hospital has been busier than usual, though. Bruises and cuts from fights. Injuries from farm equipment when the operators were distracted from their jobs by senseless daydreaming that never would have happened had they still been on Phydus. A few people just doing stupid things to show how much chutz they had. And some . . . some pretty strange cases. Where people hurt themselves or each other, just because they suddenly had the capacity to feel, and they didn’t care what they felt as long as it was something.
Amy said that she could mark how quickly the effects of Phydus wore off the Feeders by how many more people would come to the Hospital each day.
My gut twists at the thought of Amy. She’s just down the hall, probably sitting in her room, hating me.
“My report,” Doc says, sliding a floppy across the desk as he sits down.
Before I look at it, I say, “Will Evie be okay?”
Doc nods. “The Phydus patch is just like any other med patch—it’s just that the meds inside it are a variation of Phydus. It’s strong enough to act quickly, but I’ve also developed an antidote patch, just in case. ”
I’m still hesitant about using Phydus in any form, but at least there’s an antidote. I let the subject drop.
For a moment, I consider telling Doc what I now know about the ship, how we’re stopped. If Eldest had known, he would have told Doc. But I’m not Eldest, and Doc’s not my friend. Instead of speaking, I examine the report Doc handed me.
SHIP HEALTH EVALUATION REPORT
Previous ship population: 2,298
Current ship population: 2,296
Fluctuations in population: -2
Jordy, Rancher: suicide
Ellemae, Greenhouse Keeper: complications in external injuries
Disease and injuries:
+3 infection due to previous wounds
+18 gastroenteritis due to improper food preparation
+6 workplace injuries
+9 self-inflicted injuries and violence
+43 alcohol-related problems (poisoning, injuries, etc. )