Free Redeemer by Katie Clark Page A

Fischer steps into the room behind the doctor. His eyes are swollen and ringed with black. I’m not sure, but I think his nose is slightly crooked. His left arm is bandaged from wrist to elbow.
    I shouldn’t be surprised to see him here since it’s where he came from, but I haven’t seen him since I left him behind at the prison outside of Greater City. What happened to him there? By the looks of him, it wasn’t anything good.
    Looking down, I clasp my hands in my lap in an attempt to hide the fact we know each other. The doctor doesn’t know it. Isabel doesn’t know it. And Tucker sure doesn’t need to know it.
    “If you’ll get her fixed up, I’ll write up the paperwork,” the doctor says.
    Fischer nods and moves to do his work. I peek at him but he hasn’t made any indication he even knows I’m alive. He is good at keeping composure, but this detachment is different. He seems—cold, somehow.
    His hands are as gentle as ever, though. He wipes as much blood away as he can, while holding a towel against the cut on my arm.
    “Dr. Hines said you cut it on a rusty fence?” His voice is quiet and concentrated.
    I swallow, my throat suddenly swollen. “Yes, that’s right.”
    He turns and pulls a brown bottle from a cabinet. This hospital is sparsely stocked compared to the hospital in Middle City 3, but it appears clean. I don’t remember what it looked like when I visited with Professor Higgins. I was never deep enough inside to pay attention.
    I do remember what Fischer looked like the last time I saw him, though. He looked mostly healthy and in good condition, and now it’s obvious he took a pounding. Was it the prisoners? Did they catch him during the riot? Or did the guards do this once he was captured?
    Regardless, he ended up demoted and in terrible condition.
    And it’s all my fault.
    I swallow again. Stupid tears clogging up my head. Is he here because of me? If I hadn’t tried to get inside the prison, I would still be in Greater City furthering the cause, and he would still be a medic at the prison, alive and well.
    No wonder he won’t look me in the eye. That and the fact I left him behind.
    He removes the towel and a gaping wound stares back at me. Isabel gasps and turns around, but the thud surprises us all.
    Tucker lies on the ground, moaning, and Dr. Hines moves from his seat where he’d been writing out a report. “Let’s get you out of here,” he says.
    Tucker struggles to his feet and Dr. Hines manages to get the giant out of the room.
    I can’t help giggling, but Isabel is still wincing and looking away.
    “I’m going to have to put in stitches,” Fischer says, “but I don’t have any numbing medication.”
    “That’s OK,” I say.
    At last, he meets my eyes. “It’s going to hurt.”
    “I’ve gathered that.”
    He nods and moves to collect whatever supplies he’ll need, and I glance at Isabel. “You can sit in the doctor’s chair.”
    She hesitates and glances at Fischer.
    He turns around long enough to give her a nod. “Hana’s right. You can sit there.”
    Isabel frowns, but she doesn’t say whatever’s bothering her. She sinks into the chair and turns her frown on me.
    Fischer moves my arm to lay flat on the counter next to my chair, and he rubs it down with an orange liquid.
    “You don’t have any wood to bite down on, do you?” I ask.
    His gaze flies to mine, and I think I see a ghost of a smile, but then it’s gone. “Sorry, fresh out. Try to think of something else—anything else.”
    I nod and turn away as he sews. The stinging barely burns, but tears spring to my eyes. I blink them away, but they only start running down my cheeks. Annoying, betraying tears. It has to be Fischer’s presence.
    “You ran away from Lesser 4?” he asks softly.
    I nod.
    “Where were you going?”
    I hesitate and glance at Isabel. She watches us with interest, and it’s clear she suspects something is up.
    “Here, actually. We saw a flying transporter.”
    He frowns