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January 9
Most people were grossed out by medical smells, but not Suki. There was a certain smell in hospitals that she found both familiar and comforting. Or maybe it was just nostalgic. When she was a little girl, she’d visit her mom where she worked as a nurse in Fremont. She had asked her mom about that smell, and was told it was antiseptic. And with that smell might come the tangy whiff of rubbing alcohol. These were smells that masked the otherwise nasty aromas common in a hospital—vomit, blood, and various degrees of people’s poop.
Being in a hospital was familiar ground to Suki. The distant beep of monitors, the code words the staff used on the speakers. Those weren’t fearful sounds. They were comforting ones.
And then the warning feeling came and blew the feeling of safety to bits.
Suki stiffened in her chair. Her mom was asleep on the hospital bed, a blue blanket covering her body. Jane Louise was curled up on another chair, picking at the broken remains of the armrest fabric. A tray with a half-eaten tuna sandwich, an empty juice box, and a cup of pudding sat on the floor by her. A nurse had generously donated her lunch to help ease their hunger.
An IV line was hanging from a chrome pole, dripping fluids into the tubing stuck into her mom’s arm. The doctor who’d been helping them was a nice man. Dr. Andrews, a short, stocky older Asian man with buzzed gray hair. He’d stopped by in the last hour to check on them and made sure everyone had enough to eat. They’d caught the low insulin in time, he’d said. There was no sign of DKA.
Suki felt the throb of warning again. She got off the chair and walked to the edge of the curtain. The door on the other side was closed, so she pulled on the latch and opened it a crack. Outside, in the bustle of the emergency main floor, she saw nurses and a variety of patients—some in wheelchairs, one on a gurney, but most standing. It was impossible to tell with her eyes who, if any of them, was the source of warning.
But that warning couldn’t be wrong. She’d learned to trust herself because the warnings she felt were tied to her magic. They were in trouble, or about to be. That meant it was time to get out of there.
Suki went back behind the curtain and saw Jane Louise watching her.
“Is Uncle Steve here?” the little girl asked.
That was the code name for Steve Lund, who was coming to help them. Suki looked at the clock on the wall. He was probably still flying down from DC. Her stomach twisted with anxiety, but she began to whisper the Mayan words to calm herself. She walked to the bed and shook her mom’s shoulder.
Her mom’s eyes fluttered open. “Sorry I fell asleep. Is everything okay?”
Suki shook her head. “We have to get out of here.”
Jane Louise startled.
Suki bit her lip, glancing at the little girl. She hated the fear in her eyes—hated even more that she’d put it there, but fear made sense. This was all wrong.
Her mom’s brow wrinkled. “Did something happen while I was asleep?”
Suki shook her head again. “No. The vibe changed. Like what happened when we went to Calakmul’s resort. I get these feelings sometimes. Warnings. We need to go. Now.”
Her mother didn’t hesitate. She didn’t second-guess or question. “Okay, mija. I trust you.” Sarina rubbed her eyes and then swung her legs off the edge of the bed. She looked at the drip line in her arm and, thankfully, knew exactly how to stop it. She undid the tape holding the needle to the crook of her arm and then pulled it out.
“Get me a Band-Aid and a cotton ball. Over there,” she ordered.
Suki did so, and her mom had her put the cotton ball on the injection site and then covered it with the Band-Aid. Jane Louise hopped off the chair. The feeling of fear was growing rapidly in Suki’s chest—turning into an urgent beat that matched the pounding of her heart.
“I’ll need more insulin,” her mom said. Then she looked at the table and searched around. They found some packages of syringes and a partial bottle of insulin in the trash can that the nurse had used earlier.
“We have to go,” Suki said, her voice rising in panic.
The look of fatigue on her mom’s face was telling. Ix Chel might have restored her age, but she hadn’t restored her health.
“They don’t have any extra vials here,” her mom said after a few moments of more searching.
“I’ll check the hallway again,” Suki said. Jane Louise took Sarina’s hand and squeezed it. Lund had the phone number for the hospital. He’d call as soon as he landed, but they would be gone. She had his phone number memorized, though. Maybe she should use the phone in the room to leave him a—?
The next throb of warning hit her hard.
No time. She’d have to find another way.
Suki went to the door, cracked it open again. There were even more people in the corridor now. Someone was crying. The rust-like smell of blood overwhelmed the scent of antiseptic.
There was an abandoned wheelchair just a few feet away. Suki hurried to it and then unlocked the wheels and pushed it back to the room just as her mom and Jane Louise emerged.
“Sit down,” Suki ordered. Her mom did so, and Suki began to push her away from the crowded end of the hall. Her neck hairs were tingling with anticipation.
