He thinks he heard what I said back in New Orleans, but he didn’t.
He thinks I said we’ll leave Indie behind. Go do our own thing.
But that’s not what I meant.
There is no leaving her. There is only eliminating her.
God, I hate myself for even having this mental conversation.
Is this where we’re at?
Is this really the only way?
I mean, if Nick thinks he’s gonna cure the fucked-up shit inside Wendy’s head using the same PSYOPS techniques that put them there in the first place, wouldn’t it make logical sense that Indie might be cured the same way?
I actually scoff out loud. Cure? Cure? There is no cure for crazy. They’ve been trying for centuries. Cutting parts of people’s brains out. Shocking the fuck out of them with electricity. Some of the most heinous things in medicine have taken place because they were tryin’ to cure the crazy.
“What are you huffing about?”
I let out a long breath as I look at my best friend, then smile. It’s not even forced. McKay just makes me smile. Even though I don’t know where this day is going, I do know one thing—we’re right back where we were for Indie’s twentieth. We’re in the kitchen drinking mimosas. Making toasts. Happy. And any minute now, the doorbell is gonna ring and Nathan St. James is gonna be on our porch. And then everything will go sideways.
Only this time, it’s Carter Couture who’s knocking.
And even though we know better, we’re about to let him in.
“Adam?” McKay prods me.
But I don’t have time to answer because Nick appears in the arched doorway that leads to the foyer hallway. He reaches up, grabs the top of the doorjamb, all casual-like, and looks me in the eyes. “We’re ready.”
Everyone gets up at the same time. Like we were on the edge of our seats, just waiting for Nick Tate to give us the go signal.
Indie is whispering something to Maggie. Maggie says, “Oh, I’m coming. There’s no way I’m not coming.”
Indie is looking at me, waiting for a decision on whether or not we’re gonna make Magnolia stay up in her room. Then everyone is looking at me. Like I’m in charge of the disaster that’s coming.
“Adam,” Maggie says. “I’m not staying upstairs by myself. No.”
I let out a long breath, resigned to the fact that this day will play out the way it plays out and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. “All right.”
She does not squeal about this decision. And this is my first clue that this day is gonna change everything. Even six-year-old Magnolia knows that what we’re doing here is dangerous. She doesn’t want to be in the room because she’s curious and excited. She just doesn’t want to be upstairs all alone when whatever happens next goes down.
There is a pause in the dining room. Like we’re all thinking the same thing. But then Nick breaks the spell. “What the fuck are you all waiting for?”
We snap out of it and move. Making our way through the living room and down the breezeway to Donovan’s hospital setup.
“Good,” Doc Bolton says. “You’re here. Let’s get this started.”
I put up a hand, not quite ready to get anything started. “What’s the plan?”
“Oh, now you wanna know the plan?” Merc’s comment is a little bit snide.
And it occurs to me that he’s ticked off that McKay and I got out of here last night. I have to admit, leaving everyone here to deal with real life while we went into the city to get away from it all isn’t the best optics. So I ignore his attitude.
“I don’t need specifics, Merc. Just fill me in.” Then I add, “Please.”
“We’re going to bring him out of the coma,” Doc says. “Then give him Lectra to put him in the right state of mind. Then use sound frequencies to partition his mind—”
I get stuck on that phrase and totally miss what comes next.
Partition his mind.
Welcome to the world of insane men who do heinous things in the name of medicine, Adam Boucher. If anyone finds out about this, you’re gonna be up there with the sickest of them, even though you’re not the one even doing the experiment.
Doesn’t matter. I’m the one who gave permission.
“Is all that OK with you?” Merc is asking.
“Hold on. Why do we have to wake him up? I wasn’t expecting that. I thought we could keep him sedated.”
“Normally, I would,” Merc says. “But we’re using Lectra.” He holds up the blue bottle.
“I don’t know what that is,” I say.
“It’s a drug,” Nick says. “You drink it and it changes a person’s state of mind.”
“Why do we have to wake him up? Can’t we put it in his IV or something?”
“No,” Merc says. “It’s activated by an enzyme in the stomach. If you push it into the bloodstream without that enzyme, it doesn’t do anything. So we need him awake enough to sit up and drink it.”