Acropolis Read Free Page B

take flight, bat-like
wings unfurling from my back through a navy t-shirt rigged for
impromptu flight. I don't care if Gibson curses me a thousand times
over for hanging up on him. This Extraction is destined to go awry.
If the wrong forces know where the girl is, Will is headed for
trouble.
     
     
     

Chapter 4
     
    Emma
     
    They wanted to sedate me. When my mother
refused, they suggested a straight jacket. I had, after all,
attacked one of their doctors. Not intentionally. Never
intentionally, but I had almost choked her to death.
    Dr. Helen Reed is insensible now, yelling
something about "her impossible strength." Apparently, I had also
cracked one of her ribs.
    "Adrenaline can heighten abilities," a male
voice says from behind the curtain where I am now being held.
    I'm not in the cushy Psychology wing anymore.
I'm not really sure where I am. I am strapped down to a stretcher,
my mother and several medical personnel arguing outside the
sectioned off cubicle they had transported me to. There is no fight
left in me. My face is stiff, and I know my cheeks are streaked
with blood. This scares me. Is this finally it for me?
    "Adrenaline, my ass, Franklin!" Dr. Reed
practically shouts. I had really scared her. I had scared
myself.
    "She isn't dangerous," my mother says, her
voice small. I can see her now with her tall, skeletal frame, her
hands rubbing arms that never seem warm anymore.
    "I beg to differ," Reed argues.
    I am really beginning to dislike the woman.
Maybe her job has jaded her. She obviously has no compassion.
    I want to move my arms. They are getting that
pins and needles feel from being motionless too long. I hadn't
meant to hurt anyone. I had been terrified. Nothing more.
    "If you could just tell me what I need to do
to get her released . . ." my mother begins.
    Dr. Reed cackles wildly, her words so fast
and furious, my spinning head can't keep up. The male voice rises
again, and I hear him summon more individuals, invisible people,
who draw Helen Reed away. Shadowy figures move chaotically beyond
my fabric wall for what seems like hours before a hand suddenly
grips the curtain and shoves it aside. My heart rate increases.
    "Ms. Chase?" a familiar male voice says.
    From where I lay, the man looks tall,
his lanky body swathed in grayish-blue scrubs. He is a young doctor
with reddish-brown hair and an angular face. If they were casting a
movie for the modern-day Wizard of
Oz , he'd make the perfect scarecrow.
    "How are we doing?" he asks as he approaches
me. His eyes are small, sharp. They make me nervous.
    "Where's my mother?"
    He glances over his shoulder at the hall.
    "She will be here in a moment," he says
cautiously. "Emma . . . can I call you that?"
    I nod.
    "We need to admit you, run some tests, find
out what may be happening to you."
    I look down at the restraints on my arm.
    "Can you take these off, p-please?"
    My voice is small. Anxiety consumes me. I am
light-headed and nauseous. Being restrained only makes me panic
more.
    "They're for your own safety, Ms. Chase. I
can sit you up if you like."
    I want to sob, but I nod instead. He moves to
my side, using a lever to lift the head of the bed. From an
inclined angle, he doesn't look as tall as he had before. Lanky
definitely, medium height, sharp features . . . .
    "I'm Roosevelt Franklin. I work for the
hospital."
    "R-r-roosevelt F-franklin . . .?"
    My teeth are chattering, and I bite down on
the inside of my cheek to keep myself from being incoherent.
Roosevelt smiles wryly, his dark eyes gleaming in the bright
fluorescent room.
    "My parents had a thing for great American
heroes. Most people just call me Roach."
    Roaches are disgusting, sneaky insects whose
name makes my skin crawl. My anxiety kicks up a notch.
    "Y-you're not a doctor?"
    He laughs.
    "Hell, no."
    Being strapped down doesn't seem like such a
bad idea anymore. His crass answer fuels my fear, makes me want to
lash out. Fight and flight.
    "Where's my mother?" I ask again,