Wake Up Missing Read Free Page B

chuckled.
    â€œThey’re not
that
easy to come by, Ben.” Dr. Ames smiled at him. “I appreciate a man who’s not afraid to question things. But I do like to think we work some magic here. We have a process that can actually
make
healthy brain cells.”
    â€œYeah?” Ben raised his eyebrows.
    â€œYep. With your own DNA. We insert it into something called a retrovirus. You guys know what a virus is, right?”
    â€œLike cold viruses and flu viruses?” I asked. That didn’t sound like something that would make us feel better.
    â€œSimilar. Viruses are tiny organisms that infect a host cell and use it to reproduce. Retroviruses get inside a cell and then spread their
own
genetic material.”
    â€œSo . . . if you have a retrovirus full of
my
genetic material . . .”
    â€œYou got it!” Dr. Ames’s eyes lit up, and he nodded. “In that case, when we introduce that retrovirus to your system, we get new, healthy brain cells, reproducing to give you back what you lost. Pretty awesome, huh?” He turned and started toward the big building that I figured must be the clinic. “Now, let’s continue our tour.”
    â€œHave you guys started that gene therapy yet?” I asked Sarah, who was hopping over cracks in the sidewalk.
    She shook her head. “No—we’re still on Phase Two. But I hope it’s soon. It’s totally boring here with so few kids.”
    â€œSo, wait . . .” Mom rushed to catch up with Dr. Ames on the sidewalk. “You have these four, and . . . two others? Only six patients?”
    â€œAt the moment, yes. We have six
guests
.” He pulled open the clinic door and held it for her. “Our numbers vary. We get people home quickly once they’ve recovered.” He pointed down a long white hallway. “Come this way, and I’ll show you the rest of the facilities.”
    He stopped at a set of glass doors partway down the hall. “Here’s our cafeteria, where you’ll have your meals unless you’re having a rough day and need to eat in your room.” We filed into the big, bright room. Potted plants grew along the windows, and there were four round tables that looked like regular kitchen tables in regular houses.
    â€œWhere do those steps go?” Ben asked, pointing to the staircase in the corner of the room.
    â€œUp to the roof,” Dr. Ames said. “Killer view. You can go up anytime you’d like and check it out.”
    â€œThey’re allowed on the
roof
?” Mom tipped her head like she’d heard wrong.
    â€œIt’s more of an upstairs deck,” Dr. Ames said. “Totally safe, completely fenced in.” He held his hand up to his waist to show Mom how safe we’d be. “You want to see it?”
    Mom looked at me.
    â€œNot now,” I said. What I really wanted was to finish this tour so I could lie down. I think Dr. Ames could tell I wasstarting to fade because he put an arm around Mom and led her back to the hallway.
    â€œOur MRI and electroencephalography labs are down this way,” Dr. Ames said, gesturing to his right.
    â€œElectro-huh?” I looked down the hallway.
    Dr. Ames laughed. “It’s a mouthful—just a fancy name for another kind of brain scan. I’d show you, but those rooms are in use right now and I don’t want to interrupt.” He continued down the hallway. “Here’s my office.” He unlocked a door and led us into a bright, open room with a big wooden desk.
    â€œWhat a lovely view,” Mom said, stepping up to one of the windows that looked out over the swimming pool and, beyond that, the docks. I leaned against the desk, and my hand brushed a manila folder; there were a bunch of them, fanned out next to a laptop computer. The folders were labeled ENRIQUEZ, HAYES, JACOBS, MCCAIN, PERKINS, and mine, GRAYSON. Probably full of our medical files from home. A green Post-it note on the