The Future Chosen [was Anti-Dynasty/Extraordinary]

Broken Chapter 3

She was so out of it during the trip to the private island hospital. That, she thought, must have explained the dreams. She could have sworn she saw a really cute nurse get into the helicopter with her.

Excuse me: A hot, cute, male medical professional. He was in white, and there was a blur of red, probably the badge that all medical professionals had to wear to identify themselves when traveling.

They didn't have enough of those in the Riorosa family. When you grew up in the shadow of a former president, everyone's lives bent to the rules they had to follow to ensure that they could regain that peak. Elections were won by personalities and money, not healing and service. Very few Riorosas became doctors or nurses, or married doctors and nurses. They became business leaders and married them, then gave to hospitals and medical organizations.

They'll never let me marry a hot nurse, Lourdes thought. She couldn't see her own face, but she was sure she had a droopy, drugged grin right on it.

Callemara by air wasn't more than two hours away, and Lourdes kept slipping back into a building rooftop, at night. Hot Nurse was right there with her, and they were laughing, standing there and watching the lights of the city below. She would open her eyes and see the inside of her medical transport, look down to see herself strapped into her gurney.

Then she would be on that rooftop again, and Hot Nurse was giving her a glass of wine.

"I shouldn't drink while I'm sedated," Lourdes said, in the dream, and then immediately wanted to kick herself. She was the worst lucid dreamer in the world.

Hot Nurse held up his glass and the drink changed, just like that, to a bright orange liquid. "It's not bad for you now."

"I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't accept drinks from guys I don't know."

"You shouldn't," he said. "But you know who I am."

Lourdes's eyes flew open again, and she was still in transit, still strapped in. The Hot Nurse's face hovered over her, concerned, already checking her forehead and her chart. He had a mask covering his nose and mouth, and she knew that was standard, but then she began to wonder how she ever thought he was cute when she could barely see his face.

But then, those eyes. That forehead. The shape of that head, the shoulders, the hands she'd know anywhere.

She wanted to speak and tell him she knew, she wasn't sure if she was still dreaming but she knew, oh God, and no sound came out. A brief look of concern flashed in his eyes and he simply nodded, placing a hand on her shoulder.

His head sort of shrugged toward the pilot.

Then at the armed guard behind the pilot.

Then toward the round reflective ball installed underneath the FASTEN SEATBELTS sign, a camera, currently broadcasting.

Lourdes closed her mouth and relaxed her limbs.

"Don't talk," Hot Nurse said, taking on the exact and appropriate tone and bedside manner. "Just move your fingers. On a scale of one to ten, how are you feeling now?"

Lourdes wriggled her fingers against the sheets and raised all ten.