Wings

Anxiety

LUKA

The hotel room was frigid, and the scratches a pencil made against a marked sheet of paper accompanied the noise of a busy air conditioner. The cheap motel room HQ booked me in stank of musk and febreeze, but at least that was where the smells ended.
A glance over my work left me scratching my head. I only had one more place to visit, and I wasn't exactly eager to hike four miles up the remote reaches of the Appalachian Mountains tomorrow. 

I had already visited seven facilities. Four were a definite no, whether because of the people, avians, climate, or inadequate resources. Two came across as maybes, and one seemed like a decent fit for Derrick. With swoosh of the pen, I circled the name on my list.

It seemed like caffeine was the only thing keeping me alive throughout the trip. For nearly two weeks, I had been surviving on upwards of four cups of coffee during the day and four hours of sleep at night. Life sucked right now. A grumble left me as I decided to at least get some rest before trekking through the wilderness in the morning.

The bed creaked and groaned when I slipped into it. I just hoped that I was the only occupant at the moment. Despite my grievances, my body managed to force me into a coma-like state with ease.

A screaming alarm sent me from 0 to 100 in about half a second. My muscles all fired at once, and I was sent hurtling out of bed. My early-morning wrath erupted from me with a groan before I grabbed my shrieking cell phone. The caller ID told me that the call was coming from SARC.
"Good morning." I lied through my teeth.

"Good morning, Dr. Fryre." The voice on the other end replied. "There's been an emergency."
I sobered immediately. "What happened?" 

"Patient seventeen attempted to and successfully mutilated a member of staff."

A clammy hand covered my mouth. "Dear God."

The voice continued calmly. "Your presence is requested as soon as possible, Dr. Fryre."

"I'm in North Carolina." I stole a look at my watch to see that it was 4 A.M. "I can make it back around 3 P.M. if I drive." I chewed on my lip anxiously. "Can you see if HQ can book me on an emergency flight?"
The voice affirmed, "Yes, sir, I can."

My response left me in a shaky tremor. "Thank you so much. Just send someone to pick me up from my motel."

"You're welcome Dr. Fryre. Have a nice day." The voice deadpanned. I clicked a little button and hung up.

Shaking hands covered my face as a trembling breath left me. "What did you do, Derrick?"

***

Not a half hour later, my belongings were thrown chaotically back into a suitcase and I sat chewing my nails on a curb outside of the motel.
What possibly could have gone wrong?
I wrung my hands together. Anxiety settled in my stomach, and nausea crept up to strangle my throat. The ants scurrying along the sidewalk seemed unburdened. Lucky little creatures.
As I waited, I drug my laptop from my suitcase and typed security code after security code to enter and access my email account. I sent a hastily-typed message to an officer requesting surveillance camera footage, schedules, meal plans, and a detailed transcription of events.
An uber came streaking through the curb. The driver pulled up to the curb and ushered me inside with a flash of his SARC badge; it didn't take much else to make me catapult myself into the car.

A hop, skip, and a jump later, we were at an unmarked airfield, where I was met by a charter plane that looked barely airworthy. Two hours of turbulent flight would take me to Springfield. In order to suppress my anxiety, I reviewed the information I had been sent over email.
It didn't help.
"Dear Christ almighty son, what da hell are they messin' with now?"