Myra reluctantly undressed and submitted to the physical, knowing that her sagging flesh would betray her. However decrepit her form might be, Myra wasn’t ready to die. She enjoyed her garden, and her grandchildren, far too much. But the doctor didn’t convey any judgment or concern as she went through the practiced routine. She was calm and gentle. Until she used a stethoscope to listen to Myra’s heart.

Myra saw the frown flash over Dr. Gladden’s delicate features and in an instant was certain that her weary body had consigned her still-lively mind to a grim fate.

“Hmmm. A murmur,” the doctor reported. “Taken with that high systolic number, it makes two risk factors.”

Myra launched a desperate protest. “I’m fit as a fiddle! Live to be 100!”

Unmoved, the doctor jotted an assignment on Myra’s chart. “That’s the spirit. Two weeks observation at a Supervised Living Shelter, a few more tests, and that will do it.”

Myra cried quietly into her hands. Yes, it would. She would never survive two weeks in the overcrowded, pestilent conditions of a camp. 

She looked up, unable to accept a death sentence from someone who had such obvious compassion.

“Please…. Don’t do this. If I felt sick, I would turn myself in. I swear. I’m fine. I’m not ready to die!”

Though Gladden’s face betrayed nothing, her hand trembled as she completed the “paperwork” on her tablet. “Then you will be just fine. The will to survive is everything.”

Her eyes remained focused on the screen until Myra touched her arm. The doctor was so startled by the unexpected contact that she looked sharply into Myra’s eyes.

“Please,” Myra said. “You must have heard about the camps…. No one comes back. No one.”

The doctor’s professionalism suddenly gave way. She grabbed Myra’s arm and spoke in an urgent whisper. “All right, I'll clear you. But take better care of yourself, okay?”

Sobbing with relief, Myra tried to embrace her but the doctor deflected her with a wary glance around the curtain.

“Myra. Please. Around here, acting happy is very suspicious.”


#


Winter picked his way through the lunar terrain of the ruins, following Nic.