Read Online The In-Betweener (Between Life and Death) (S) by Ann Christy - Free Book Online Page B

again and, even though it should be a simple matter of getting another scan and verifying that it’s just a headache and not my cancer returning, there are steps that must be followed.
    Nanite treatment is no guarantee against a cancer coming back, at least not in my case. Newer nanites for first aid, infection reduction, or even plaque control continue working, replacing themselves and maintaining a healthy population number inside their host. These new ones are replicated within the host by specialized factory nanites.
    Mine were the first of their kind, really, and it makes no sense to keep a bunch of machines in your head after the cancer is gone. So all of these new and more complicated nanites didn’t exist during my treatment and that left my body to its own devices once my cancer was cured. But, like the doctor said, even one cancer cell left in my head has the chance to start the whole process over again. Probably not, but it is possible.
    Yet, the headaches. My doctor has scheduled the scan but he’s told us that the more likely explanation is the growth of my skull around the scarred parts and my brain filling the space once taken up by cancer as I grow. That makes sense to me because I’m in a growth spurt the likes of which I never expected. The doctor says that’s just because my body had a few years of falling behind, with messed-up hormones and all of that. I’m getting tall. I like tall.
    I could also be in denial. It’s an option.
    Besides, I hate to say it, but if it is my cancer again, it’s not like they don’t know how to treat it. And they can do it better and with less pain than when I had it done the first time. They don’t even drill into a patient’s head anymore. For my second treatment, the nanites were simply shot into my spinal fluid and they did their thing. It’s almost an out-patient procedure nowadays. Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but not a huge exaggeration.
    “What’s going on?” I ask, as our car nears the military hospital. The access road ahead is blocked and police vehicles crowd the intersection that leads off to the military shopping complex and gas station. Beyond a row of blockades, a crowd fills the road for as far as I can see.
    My mother sits up higher in the seat, as if that added inch of height will somehow let her understand what’s going on. “I don’t know. I mean, I knew there were some demonstrations planned, but I didn’t realize it was going to be here. Or like this!”
    I check the clock on the car’s dash and say, “I’ve only got an hour before my scan, Mom.”
    This is important information. These machines are in high demand, now more than ever, and I don’t want to wait another week or two for another slot. I don’t want my mom to have to wait another week or two.
    A cop at the roadblock gestures with a bored wave of his hand for my mom to turn right, but she stops and lowers the window instead. The cop almost rolls his eyes as he takes a couple of steps forward at my mom’s polite, “Excuse me, officer.”
    “Ma’am, you need to turn right. No, I won’t let you go past. The road is blocked.”
    “Of course, officer,” my mother says, the level of politeness undiminished as if she didn’t hear the rudeness in his words. “I only want to ask where patients at the hospital are supposed to go. My daughter is a patient.”
    He leans down, eyes me, and asks, “Can she walk?”
    I nod and say, “Sure.”
    “Then the officer at the end of the block will let you into the parking lot. If she can’t walk that far, ask him for a chair and an attendant will come get her.” He seems to realize then that we aren’t the people turning his day into a pain in the butt, so he adds, “Sorry about this, ma’am.”
    A horn blares behind us and the cop steps back, leveling a look at the car that is anything but amused. He waves us to the right again.
    There are cops everywhere. And where there aren’t cops, there are security guards that