Chapter 1

None of the three knew that within five minutes, the life of one would change forever.

“This is nice,” Michelle said, though doubtfully. She’d lifted a lacy purple top from the rack. Two feet away, Tommie rendered her judgment with pursed lips, folded arms, and canted hips. Michelle replaced the top and flicked through a few others.

It was Friday afternoon and the three planned to shop until 6 o’clock, grab a pizza at Gino’s, and then catch the 7:15 showing of Flirtation. The movie had been out for over a month, and Michelle had already seen it twice. This would be Tommie’s second viewing, though Kellie, she hadn’t seen it at all: a Flirtation virgin.

Tommie held out a dark blue top, giving it a critical eye. Shaking her head, and returning the top to the rack, she stated: “I heard that Robert cheats on Amy.” Robert and Amy were the stars of Flirtation and an item in real life.

“I heard he’s cheating on her with Albert,” offered Michelle, another purple top in her hand. Albert was the antagonist of the movie, played by Mallo Rice, a real hunk. “I don’t know what he could possibly be thinking, though. Albert is soooo hot, but Robert kissing another guy? I don’t think so!”

Slipping the top back onto the rack, Michelle fingered a blue one that immediately, and unfortunately caught Tommie’s eye.

“What do you think, Kel? Is Albert hotter than Amy?”

Kellie reddened; Michelle and Tommie exchanged a grin. It was old news that Kellie suffered draconian parental supervision. She hadn’t mom’s permission for the picture tonight, and risked a grounding if caught. Not a sure bet, but likely.

And here, our story takes a sharp left jog. A man jostled past, excusing himself gruffly. Kellie felt a sting on her thigh. Wincing, she eyed the man hurrying away. He looked middle aged, thick like her Uncle Guy, with unruly black hair going thin on top like her biology teacher, Mr. Grove. Kellie wondered for a moment if she hadn’t been groped, then decided against it. What was that sting on her leg, though?

“You okay?” Michelle asked.

Kellie nodded and rubbed her thigh. She’d swear the man had jabbed her with a needle. Maybe she ought to chase him down and call for help. Who would she call, though? Gazing around, Kellie realized only shoppers like herself, Michelle, and Tommie were in sight; no store personnel at all. Being naturally timid, indecision struck her dumb.

“What happened?” Tommie demanded.

Kellie reddened. “Nothing,” she muttered, but then hesitantly told her about the bump and the stick on her thigh.

“You should go look,” Tommie advised. Beneath her look of concern was a hint of amusement, which embarrassed Kellie even more. She shook her head.

“Bullshit!” Michelle said and grabbed her arm. “If you got stuck, we need to find out, Kellie.” Therefore, a thoroughly embarrassed Kellie got dragged off to the Ladies Room for inspection.

Kellie was not the cutest of girls. Blonde and blue-eyed, she nonetheless had an unfortunate complexion, features seemingly a little too large, a little too small, or a little too close or far apart. Her body was best camouflaged beneath loosely fitting clothes. In her 14 years, 2 months and 8 days, exactly two boys had kissed her, and neither had attempted 2nd base.

A woman and her 10-year old stood at the sinks; someone else was inside a stall, and a duo of teens a couple years older than Kellie, and her friends primped at a mirror. “This is ridiculous,” she complained.

“Which hip?” Michelle demanded. Fretfully, Kellie indicated her right.

Mother and daughter eyed the trio with mild interest; the teens at the mirror ignored them. A woman in the end stall finished peeing and un-spooled toilet paper from the roll. Kellie judged by her shoes and black slacks she was not a kid her age. Michelle had told her to do something.

“What?”

Exasperated, Michelle began to undo her belt. “I can do it!” Kellie protested. The mirror teens turned and stared at Kellie, perplexed. 10-year-old’s mom looked alarmed that Michelle had forced down Kellie’s jeans. Kellie blushed even harder. “This is ridiculous,” she repeated.

“Are you OK?” 10-year-old’s mom asked.

“Some guy stuck her with something,” Tommie said.

10-year-old’s mother went wide-eye. “Let me see!” she demanded, striding purposefully over to examine Kellie’s leg. “That looks like a bee sting, to me, hon. Does it hurt?”

Despite her anxiety, Kellie hadn’t really expected to see anything. The tiny puncture and reddening bump made her feel lightheaded. The room swayed some. Michelle grabbed one arm, and Tommie the other.

“Are you allergic to bee stings, Kel? Maybe you should sit down.” Michelle guided her toward the nearest stall.

10-year-old’s mom advised calling 911. Daughter’s eyes radiated excitement. Ditto the teens at the mirror, Kellie thought glumly. Though dizzy and battling rising nausea, she noticed the woman in the end stall hurrying to get dressed and join the fray. “I’m okay,” she muttered defensively.

“You are not!” Michelle answered gruffly. “Bee stings can be really dangerous, Kel. Have you ever been stung before?”

Kellie nodded, then shook her head, and then nodded again. “Not in a long time, though.”

“Did you swell up?”

Looking panicked, Kelly nodded. “My foot got big as a football, yeah!”

“That’s it. I’m calling 911!” 10-year-old’s mom said. Digging out her cell phone, she started poking numbers. Putting the phone to her ear, she stood impatiently tapping her toe, giving Kellie an impatient glare. Kellie felt genuinely sick to her stomach now.

The occupant of the far stall opened the door and stepped out. Looking undecidedly at the closest sink, she instead made her way to Kellie’s stall. “What happened?” she demanded.

“She got stung, or someone stuck her with a hypodermic,” 10-year-old’s mom said. “Either way, she needs a doctor.”

Now Kellie looked ready to cry. She loathed being the center of attention.

10-year-old edged up beside the woman in black slacks and Kellie instantly saw the resemblance. This was her mother, not Phone Lady.

“Police, please! Or maybe Fire & Rescue, I don’t know. I’m calling from the Ladies restroom at Raymond’s at the mall. The bathroom by the Juniors section. Someone stuck a girl with a hypodermic needle, we think.” She nodded. “Did you see who it was, hon?”

Kellie shook her head.

“It was a man?”

Kellie nodded.

The sting on her leg itched maddeningly now. The bump had expanded to the size of a quarter, and grew redder by the moment.

“Don’t scratch it,” Michelle warned. Testing Kellie’s forehead with the inside of her wrist, she found it acceptably cool and stooped to examine her thigh.

“That’s definitely a bee sting, girl. He got you effing good, too, Kellie Marie.”

“Effing Bastard!” Tommie growled, then cocked her head. “Through her jeans, though? And didn’t you say... ?” Looking from Michelle to Phone Lady, she exclaimed: “It’s not a bee sting, dammit! Some a-hole stuck her with a hypodermic needle! Let’s get on the same page, people!”

“We should have gone after him,” Michelle complained.

Tommie nodded.

“Did you get a look at him, Kel?”

Kellie didn’t like the burning in her leg. It reminded her of when she’d broken her wrist and the shot of painkiller made her arm burn from wrist to shoulder. She wished her wrist were broken now.

“An ambulance is on the way,” Phone Lady said. “They’ll have Epi-pens in case you’re allergic to whatever he stuck you with, hon. It isn’t a bee sting,” she concurred. She held her phone ready, just in case.

Kellie felt hollowed out inside; as though someone had opened a valve and allowed her liquefied insides to gush out her heels. 10-year-old and her mom exchanged whispers, the mirror twins receded to the far end of the bathroom to talk, and Michelle and Tommie eyed her helplessly. She wanted to scream, kick the door shut and lock them out. She wanted to go pee. She wanted to...

Kellie opened her eyes. Blinking groggily, looking about, she discovered herself in a hospital bed. Her mouth felt stuffed with cotton. Her head ached and her leg ached even worse. Twin scraping sounds followed a hushed voice saying, “She’s awake,” and her mother and dad appeared at her bedside.

“Oh, Kellie. Are you okay?”

Without remembering why, Kellie thought she’d been asked that question a lot today.

“What happened to me, Mom?”

Mom took her hand and patted it gently. “Don’t worry, sweetie. Just you relax.”

Mom’s expression was both comforting and flustered. Dad looked angry, the way he always did when she fucked up or got caught doing something wrong. Lifting her head, Kellie discovered her younger siblings Sean and Krissy asleep on a long black divan beneath the window. No light showed through the blinds, so it was night. It was a private room, she guessed, and surprisingly large. “What happened to me?” she repeated.

Mom shook her head and smiled benevolently. “Don’t you worry, sweetie. The doctors are taking good care of you here.”

“What happened to me?” Kellie insisted.

Dad started to speak, but winced as Mom kicked his shin. “I told you, dear. There is nothing to worry about here.”

“Mom, please!”

“Everything’s fine,” Mom soothed. “You’re perfectly okay.”

A furious glance shot by her father told Kellie she was not perfectly okay, which made struggle to sit up. Mom pushed her down again; Kellie pushed Mom’s hand away, or tried to. “Stop it!” Mom scolded. “You’ll pull out your IV’s.”

Stuck into the back of Kellie’s left hand was a taped-over needle; another pierced the meat of her right forearm. A glance down her front revealed one of those horrible hospital gowns, the kind opening in the back, leaving your backside completely exposed when you walked. Someone had removed her clothing.

On the divan, Sean moaned and shifted to face the rear, pulling his legs up tight to his chest. In reaction, Krissy turned onto her left side and draw up tight at the other end. Sean was 9 years old and Crissy was 6. Neither looked like Kellie.

Forcibly capturing Kellie’s hand, Mom patted it gently. Kellie attempted unsuccessfully to win it back, the ache in her right thigh distracting her, however, so Mom won out. Her leg had something to do with her being there, she suspected. What, presently eluded her. Kellie had no memory of being stuck in the leg, or the conversation with her girlfriends afterward. In fact, she remembered nothing since about lunchtime.

“What time is it, anyway? At least tell me that,” she moaned.

Mom consulted her watch. “It’s late. You go back to sleep now, hon.”

“Mom!”

Still clutching Kellie’s hand, Mom located the handset and pressed the call button. After a moment, a scratchy voice enquired: “Can I help you?”

“My daughter needs something to help her to sleep,” Mom said.

“I do not!” Kellie objected stridently.

“I’ll send her nurse,” the voice said and clicked off. Mom draped the handset out of reach over the top of the bed. Kellie glared at her resentfully.

“You’re treating me like a baby, Mom!”

“You are a baby,” Mom agreed absentmindedly. Checking the settings of Kellie’s mattress, she lowered the head slightly and raised the knees. “That should make you more comfortable, dear.”

Kellie grumbled “Thanks”, though it had the opposite effect. Crossing her arms in a snit, she pulled both IV’s, one painfully. What potions dripped from the hanging bags into her veins anyway, she wondered. A sudden terrible thought made her gasp.

“Mom, was I... ?”

Mom shook her head vehemently. “Nothing like that, no! I promise you, sweetie. Now please relax and try not to wake your brother and sister. They’ve been here since 6 o’clock and need their sleep.”

Whatever happened to her had occurred this afternoon, Kellie guessed. Was it even Friday anymore? Were Michelle and Tommie okay? Realization that she’d been out with them shopping, accompanied the question: “Are Michelle and Tommie okay?”

“Perfectly fine,” Mom assured, patting her hand. “Michelle called from your cell phone right after you passed out, and-”

“I passed out?”

Mom looked chagrined.

“My leg really hurts, Mom. Really bad,” she emphasized, attempting to push down the covers to get a look; Mom was having none of that.

“Just lay still until the nurse comes with your sedative, dear.”

“I don’t want a sedative, Mom! I want to remember, dammit!” Abruptly recollecting the swarthy stranger in Raymond’s, the sudden sting in her thigh--a sting corresponding to where her thigh ached now-she snuck her hand down, probed gently through the covers and grimaced. Mom slapped her hand away.

“Here we are.” A middle-aged nurse in blue scrubs, armed with a syringe and glass bottle entered the room, joining them at bedside. She smiled blithely. Kellie recoiled at the sight of the sheathed needle in her hand.

“Don’t worry, sweetie, no one’s poking you again,” Nurse Sheila promised. Raising Kellie’s left hand, she tapped a short, Y-section on the IV. “This allows us to administer medication whenever we want, no muss or fuss. I bet that’s a big relief, huh?” Winking, she made a show of disinfecting the port with an alcohol swab, inserting the needle into the upside down bottle, filling it halfway, and then emptying the contents into Kellie’s IV. The effect was nearly immediate.

“Whoa,” Kellie muttered. “Can I have some more of that, please?”

Nurse Sheila laughed and patted her shoulder; Mom scowled. Kellie didn’t care, her attention was focused on the falling rain. Sticking out her tongue, she attempted to catch a drop or two.

“Keradol,” Nurse Sheila explained to Mom. Bending low, she listened to Kellie’s heartbeat and breath sounds through her stethoscope, checked her pulse and blood pressure, appearing unalarmed by her observations. Cautiously raising the blanket and underlying white sheet, she slid aside Kellie’s gown and inspected the injection site on her right thigh.

Mom raised a questioning eyebrow. Nurse Sheila shrugged. “It doesn’t appear any worse. The discoloration has spread no further since I checked last, anyway,” which was good, as the entire outside half of Kellie’s thigh, hip to just above the knee, was a horrifying purple-black. Nurse Sheila led Mom and Dad away a safe distance.

“The truth is, we don’t know what the discoloration signifies.” Hesitating, she glanced back at Kellie, still absorbed in the falling rain. “It’s not a bruise, and it’s not necrosis.” Lowering her voice to a mere whisper, she continued. “At first we thought it might be gangrene-” Mom and Dad jointly recoiled. “-but her biopsies revealed none of the markers associated with decomposition. It’s got us all stumped, I have to tell you, folks.”

“But it’s related to the injection?” Mom insisted.

“Oh, it’s definitely related to the injection,” Nurse Sheila agreed. “We just don’t know how, yet.”

Mom gazed worriedly at her daughter. “It seems to be painful.”

Nurse Sheila added her gaze. “Around the puncture site itself, yes. Sensitivity doesn’t extend into the broader, discolored area, thankfully. Luckily,” she amended.

“And you don’t know what it was? The injection?”

Nurse Sheila shook her head. “Toxicology--the reports that are back, anyway--shows nothing out of the ordinary. Except...” She frowned, her lips twisting in consternation.

“Except what?”

The nurse hesitated. “Is your daughter on birth control?”

Mom was shocked. “She’s 14 years old! Barely 14 years old! Why?” Her brows drew down and her lips puckered. “Are you saying she’s sexually active?”

Nurse Sheila shrugged. “No pelvic exam was ordered-none was called for as no sign of sexual trauma presented. We only know that her hormone levels are skewed. Which could be a result of whatever discolored her leg, we just don’t know yet.”

Mom eyed her daughter, anyway, eyes narrowed. Then sighed. “You’ll keep us informed?”

“Of course,” Nurse Sheila agreed.

Kellie failed to note her leaving a moment later, or if she did, failed to remember it afterward. Her attention was wholly absorbed in the beautiful rain.

The time was 3 a.m. Unaware of that, of course, Kellie only knew she was awake and felt like shit. Her parents, brother, and sister were mercifully gone. Her head ached, and so did her effing thigh. Unconsciously, she reached down and grimaced.

“That should go away very soon,” a low, masculine voice advised. Startled, Kellie looked over to find a man sitting in the corner. It took a full five seconds to recognize the face, and surprise replaced her fear.

“Mr. Grove? What are you doing here?”

Chuckling, Grove pushed free of the chair. At 6’5” tall, he seemed to scrape the ceiling as he shuffled forward. He was bespeckled, dark-haired, unshaven, rumpled looking even in a crisp white lab coat. A stethoscope hung around his neck, doctor-style. “How are you feeling, Kellie Marie?”

From the quietude, Kellie guessed the time as early morning. So why was Mr. Grove here, regardless the improbability of any visit? Blinking, she glanced at the door, back to her biology teacher, at the door again, and then back to Grove.

Grove joined her at bedside. “Sorry about the subterfuge, Kellie. It was necessary, although I didn’t expect you to end up hospitalized.” Pursing his lips contemplatively, he nodded.

Controlling an urge to shrink away--she found Grove slightly repulsive, even at the best times, which this most assuredly was not--Kellie felt certain that Grove had stuck her this afternoon with the needle.

“Why are you here?” Trembling, she flinched as Grove placed the back of his huge right hand against her forehead. A shudder ran down her spine, shaking the bed. She cowered, regarding him fearfully.

“No fever,” Grove observed. Placing two fingers against the pulse in her neck--Kellie recoiled in response-he said gently, “Don’t be alarmed. I’m not going to hurt you, Kellie Marie.”

“You already have,” she accused. “Today at Raymond’s!” Another deep shudder shook the bed. “What did you inject me with?”

Grove ignored the question. “How’s your leg?”

Kellie felt around inconspicuously--or tried to--for the handset. Grove removed it from the top of the bed and hung it over a plastic assembly attached to the wall. Moving the phone as well, he placed it atop a table out of reach. She made to shriek as he began to move the blanket, but Grove clamped a meaty hand over her mouth. Kellie’s eyes shot open to maximum roundness.

“I assure you--” Grove knocked Kellie’s hand aside and bared her right leg. “I have no intentions of hurting you, Kellie Marie. I only need to see the injection site, and that’s it.” Kellie struggled vainly to keep his free hand from exposing her thigh.

“Be still. You think I’m interested in you sexually? For Christ’s sake--you’re a damned kid.” Bending close to examine her leg, he muttered: “Hadn’t expected that at all.” He grunted as Kellie recoiled at his light probe of the wound area with a fingertip. He stood erect, gazing down at her. “Don’t scream.”

Experimentally lifting his hand from her mouth, he dropped it to his side when she didn’t haul in breath for a shriek. He snorted as Kellie frantically covered herself again.

“What did you do to me?” she demanded. “What was in that syringe?”

Grove pursed his lips. In the corridor, a hushed voice requested Dr. Stanton to call the 4th floor nurse’s station. An alarm across the hall--another of hundreds she’d heard in her 10-hour stay in the hospital--bleated softly. Grove ignored both. “I knew injecting a child was a mistake.”

Kellie bristled at being called a child. Laughing, Grove displayed a clear glass bottle. “Thirty Years.”

“What?”

Grove wiggled the bottle between thumb and forefinger. The bottom held a skim of liquid, greenish in color, and slightly fluorescent. It seemed to waver in intensity, like aurora’s she’d seen on television. Experiencing a fundamental disconnect, like a swimmer might, identifying a dark shape gliding through the water below her, she gripped herself across the chest.

“What is that stuff?”

Grove gave her a crooked smile. “I call it Shrinx B. Part A, I injected you with this afternoon in the store.”

“You fuck,” she muttered. “What’s this stuff gonna do to me? Except rot my leg off.”

Grove chuckled. “Take a look.”

The discoloration had paled to a soft, yellowish purple-red, the normal end-stage of a large bruise. Her leg no longer ached, only tingled a little around the puncture.

“Is that good?” she croaked.

Grove laughed. “Shrinx has remarkable regenerative properties. What I originally designed it for, in fact, before discovering the quantum interaction angle.” He gazed at the shimmering green liquid almost reverentially. “Shrinx,” he muttered, “is truly fucking amazing, kiddo.”

Kellie covered up. “What’s it do? Beside almost kill me, and then make me better again?”

Grove pocketed the bottle. “What the name implies. Creates an encapsulating field, allowing matter inside to continually re-proportion with respect to the surrounding environment.”

Might as well be talking Greek, Kellie thought to tell him ... and couldn’t.

Reacting to her sudden alarm, Grove cocked his head. “Are you okay?”

She was paralyzed: right down to her pinkies and little toes. Grove leaned forward and touched her forehead again. “What’s going on, Kellie Marie? You can’t move?” Surprised, he took her left hand and began counting heartbeats. Her heart had taken off like a jackrabbit, her respiration, as well.

“More unexpected shit.” Carefully extending his hand, he checked respiration at her sternum. “I won’t touch anything I shouldn’t touch, don’t worry.” He folded his arms, tapping a finger against his lips.

“Autonomic systems functioning normally. Could be neurotransmitter blockage in the motor-neuron center,” he mused.

Kellie blinked, and his eyebrows rose.

“Could you do that before?”

Kellie shook her head.

“Do that again.”

Kellie couldn’t, which scared the crap out of her. Grove looked pleasantly surprised.

“Selective paralysis. I wonder...” He returned to tapping a finger against his lips. “Controlling its environment is what Shrinx does. I’m going to assume...” He bent and clumsily disengaged Kellie from her IV’s, tossing parts inattentively to the floor before scooping the helpless teen into his arms. Then he set her back on the bed again. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Grove.”

Working carefully, he disengaged the jumble of leads from beneath Kellie’s gown, did a quick survey assuring he’d missed nothing, and picked her up again, carrying her to a wheelchair. Kellie had last seen it folded up, stored between the end of the divan and the wall.

“Where are you taking me?” she croaked, lips, tongue, and vocal cords not quite paralyzed.

“To a safer place,” Grove said quietly. Wheeling her to the door, he peeked outside. Apparently clear, he turned right toward an intersecting corridor twenty feet away. “Come on, Grove,” he muttered, glancing back and forth. Selecting right again, away from a distant nurses station, he pushed Kellie along the hallway toward a second intersection, tapping the handles anxiously. “Don’t you move, girl. Don’t you make a sound. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Kellie assured herself that a panicked nurse was even now dashing toward her room, intent on discovering why Kellie’s vital signs had suddenly flat-lined. An alarm would sound, security would lock down the building, and guards armed with billyclubs and mace would start a top to bottom search. Kellie might laugh in her smugness, were she not paralyzed.

Reaching the corridor, Grove turned left this time; double doors to the right required a swipe card to open. Unsecured, Kellie slid forward, threatening to spill loose limbed onto the floor. Grove hadn’t thought to belt her in. He stopped at a door marked Maintenance. “Best you’ll probably find,” he muttered.