The X-Files: I Want to Believe by Collins Max Allan

Author:Collins, Max Allan [Collins, Max Allan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Itzy, Kickass.to
ISBN: 9780061859700
Amazon: B001AO0I9I
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2009-10-23T05:25:52+00:00

Chapter 9

Our Lady of Sorrows Hospital

Richmond, Virginia

January 11

In the operating room, Dana Scully—in surgical cap and gown—was looking at her patient’s medical charts as Christian Fearon was wheeled in on his gurney.

She moved to her patient—whose shaved head made him seem even more helpless, his frail frame swimming in the hospital gown—and gave him a warm smile. “You’ve got a whole bunch of people taking good care of you this morning, Christian.”

The boy managed his own small smile, though it jumped a little when the gurney was locked into place.

Scully tilted her head. “Now, I don’t want you to be scared.”

The boy’s smile seemed less forced now. “You, either.”

She renewed her smile. “It’s a deal.”

The anesthesiologist stepped in, as Scully scrubbed up. Her face, turned away from the boy, lost its smile, and determination took over.

When she turned from the sink, Scully found her OR team already at work securing Christian’s shaved head into a stereotactic clamp device. Viewing the frightful contraption, which seemed like something out of a Middle Ages torture chamber, she felt her resolve waver. Now, with all the eyes of her team upon her, she could only hope they hadn’t sensed in her the doubt she’d just felt…

The OR nurse was frowning. “Dr. Scully…?”

“We need to antiflex his head, and I need a spinal tray with a four-inch, eighteen-gauge needle. And some lidocaine in a syringe…”

She kept her gaze on her patient and not on those around her, not wanting any of these professionals to see her eyes and perhaps recognize the fear they held.

A syringe was handed to her, which she administered to Christian’s temple, saying, “Bur drill, five-millimeter bit.”

This she was handed, and she placed its nose to the child’s temple.

The OR nurse turned her attention to the nearby 3D monitor, where the sight of the needle entering the boy’s skull could be viewed with clinical accuracy as well as a certain distance.

By the time the procedure was complete, the afternoon had faded into early evening. Scully, her scrubs spattered with her patient’s blood, sat by herself on a bench in the doctor’s locker room, writing in the notebook that Christian had given her, his autographed photo on the inside cover staring up at her.

A familiar voice behind her said, “And people think I went underground.”

She glanced toward the doorway where Mulder, in sweater and jeans, stood with hands on hips. He looked weary but alert, and she smiled automatically, but did not rise.

He came to her and sat beside her, and it was nice to have him there, but the residual tension from yesterday’s melodrama did linger.

“I’m sorry, Mulder,” she said, shutting the notebook. “I’m sure you’ve been worried. But I needed to keep my focus here.”

He took in the bloodied scrubs, then met her eyes and said, “It’s the boy, isn’t it? Scully…?”

She swallowed and nodded.

His frown told her that he could tell the weight she’d been carrying. He said, “I thought there was nothing that could be done for him…”

She sighed. “I’m taking a big chance on something.

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