Once We Were Human (The Commander Book 1) Read Online Free Page A

with the loss of those two Transforms.  They were mine.  I needed them.
    Dr. Peterson returned and wove his way in through the guards.  “Yes, now that that has been taken care of, Mrs. Hancock, where were we?” he said as he settled in behind his desk again.
    “You bastard,” I said.  Hot anger.  “You lied to me.”
    “I apologize, but it was necessary.  You’re a Major Transform, Mrs. Hancock.”
    “You said I’d failed my Focus transformation.” I said, still livid with anger.  Those Transforms had been mine!
    “You did.  You’re a Major Transform, but you’re not a Focus.”
    His comment made no sense.  To me, Major Transform and Focus were synonymous.  Like Santa Claus and Kris Kringle.  It didn’t help that my mind felt like mush.
    “I don’t understand.”
    “Neither do I,” he said, and artfully raised one and only one eyebrow.  His smarmy air of smug superiority galled me.  I tensed.  “This is outside my area of expertise.  However, I have an expert flying in to deal with you who predicted you’d be…what you are.  So, other than the fact that I have to keep you shackled up and that you are indeed some form of Major Transform, are there any other questions I can answer?”
    He lied.  I wished I’d spotted his lies the first time.  I despised doctors and their arrogance, not the least when regarding Transform Sickness.  They spouted glib explanations for something far more complicated than they understood.  I suspected Transform Sickness was supernatural. 
    I broke down in tears as the misery hit me again.  I was alone, among cold-blooded men who lied to me and thought nothing of my pain.  I wanted my husband and my children.  I wanted friends to care for me and my minister to pray for me.  Instead, I had a lying doctor who wouldn’t even tell me what little he knew.  This wasn’t the world I knew.
    None of the cold guards surrounding me would even pass me the box of tissues.  They wouldn’t come that close.  Eventually, Dr. Peterson tossed me his suit handkerchief.  I caught it (momentary surprise) and bent my head down so I could daub my eyes with the hankie in my shackled hand. 
    My weepy behavior stung my own pride.  I took a deep breath and did my best to push the tears away.  “I have some questions, Dr. Peterson.  Where’s my husband and my family?  Since it’s been a week, they should have…” I stopped as horror filled Dr. Peterson’s face.
    “Mrs. Hancock.  Your coma ended a little more than two days ago.  You arrived here last night around nine.  You woke up today at two-thirty in the afternoon.”
    I looked at my arm and my once-mangled wrists.  The bullet wounds were still red, but that was about it.  “Well, whatever I am, I heal like the dickens.”
    “Yes, you do,” Dr. Peterson said.  He took off his glasses and searched his pockets for a handkerchief to wipe them with, but of course, I had it. 
    “Okey dokey, I can live with that.  So, what’s the status of my family?”
    “Your daughter’s funeral was three days ago.  Your husband is out on bail but can’t leave Jefferson City.  Your father attended the demonstration in Jefferson City, shouting ‘death to monsters’ with the rest of the Monsters Die crowd.”  Monsters Die was an activist organization, like the NAACP, but instead of pushing for civil rights for colored people they wanted the Transforms eradicated or confined.  “Your mother has been hospitalized in Pilot Grove with exhaustion.  Your widowed mother-in-law is staying at your house, taking care…” Dr. Peterson let his voice tail off, because I’d started bawling again.
    Eventually, I stopped.  “Until your specialist gets here I think I’d just prefer to be left alone,” I said.  Dr. Peterson’s bedside manner repelled me.  He sat up more stiffly and pushed his glasses back farther on his nose.  “Do you have any of those prisoner cells with any amenities, like those fancy tin cups