Dawn's Pendant

4| classified

 Her stomach flipped sending acidic bile up her throat. A cold numbness spread about her muscles, paralyzing her from head to toe. She clenched the sheets as she gave the doctor a murderous glare.

"That can't be possible."

"I am sorry," he said. "We tried to revive her every time she stopped breathing, but she succumbed to the sickness."

"I was just with her," she muttered remembering their brave journey through the busy streets of downtown Buffalo to see the New Year fireworks. Christina knew she didn't want to go, but she did so anyway, to make her daughter happy for her birthday. My birthday, she thought feeling reality's punch in the face of a good moment in life now ruined by an unexpected tragedy. She squeezed her eyes closed making sure she could still see her mom's bright angelical smile, but all she could see was her blackened lips and her seizing.

"She can't be gone."

"Miss Christina, is there anyone that I can call for you?"

Christina trembled. "I want – I want to see her."

"Soon," he said.

"No. Right now," she said unable to believe this man until she saw for herself.

She shook her head, numbed fingers feeling for the ivy needle. The doctor grabbed her hand and pulled it away.

"Don't do that, please," he urged.

"What happened to her? I want to see her. Please."

Quick movement in the hallway behind the doctor caught her attention. Men in suits and shades ushered everyone down a hallway with great urgency.

"What's going on?"

The doctor turned to see what she was talking about and his gray eyebrows clashed. He stood erect and stepped away from the bed, hands gripping his clipboard. Christina narrowed her dry eyes sensing the doctor knew exactly what was going.

She readjusted herself in the bed, glancing at the ivy needle, to the shaky bed rail, to the window across the room. She had nowhere to run and did not have a weapon to use to defend herself, however, the doctor remained calm.

Then a man with an egg-shaped head and short-cropped hair walked into the room carrying an aura of someone whom always gotten his way in life. "Good morning Stephens."

"Sir," the doctor grumbled, lips pressed in a straight line.

"I have it from here."

The doctor gave Christina a glimpse of regret before whisking out the room. As he exited, another man in a suit entered, but this one was chubby with a round face and floppy brown hair. He frowned and closed the door telling Christina their visit was not on a positive note.

"Who are you and what do you want?"

The possessive man pulled out a wallet and flashed a badge into her face. "Special Agent Daniel MaKrawski from the CIA. This is my partner S.A. Wyatt Thomasson."

"CIA?" she said feeling her palms grow sweaty with nerves.

What does the CIA want with me?

"Yes. We're here to ask you some questions concerning your mother, Michelle Ammeen."

Christina's stomach churned. She was no longer alive. "Well, she's... gone?"

"We know," he said in a quick tone. He removed his shades revealing dark gray eyes of a raging storm.

"We give you our condolences," Agent Wyatt barged in as if he knew his partner was going to exclude sympathy all together.

Agent Daniel frowned. "I will ask you a few questions and you will answer. Then we will leave you alone to grieve."