Godplayer by Robin Cook

“I don’t remember it at all,” said Cassi.

“That’s not a very good recommendation for the hospital kitchen,” said the nurse. “Nor for me. I fed it to you.”

“What about my diabetes?” asked Cassi.

“You’ve been doing fine. We gave you a little extra insulin after your meal, but otherwise it’s all in here.” The nurse knocked the IV bottle with her knuckle so Cassi could hear. “And here’s your sleep meds.”

Cassi dutifully put out her right hand and felt two pills drop into her palm. She put them in her mouth. Then, reaching out again, she felt the glass of water.

“Do you think you need a sedative too?”

“I don’t think so,” said Cassi. “I feel like I’ve slept all day.”

“It’s good for you. Now your night table is right here.”

The nurse took the glass from Cassi, then guided her hand over the bedside rail so she could feel the water glass, pitcher, telephone, and call button.

“Is there anything else?” asked the nurse. “Do you have any pain?”

“No, thank you,” said Cassi. She was surprised she’d had so little discomfort from the operation.

“Do you want me to switch off the TV?”

“No,” said Cassi. She liked the sound.

“Okay, but here’s the switch.” The nurse guided Cassi’s hand to the button by the side of the bed. “Have a good night’s sleep, and if you want anything, give us a call.”

After the nurse left, Cassi did a little exploring of her own. Reaching out, she touched the side table. The nurse had pulled it away from the wall so it would be slightly more accessible. With some difficulty she pulled out the metal drawer and felt for her watch. Thomas had given it to her, and she wondered if she should have it put in the hospital safe. She didn’t find it immediately. Her hand touched her own vials of insulin and a handful of syringes. The watch was under the syringes. It was probably safe enough.

She pulled her hand back under the covers. As the medicine took hold she realized why people were tempted to misuse it. It made reality recede.

The problems were there, but at a distance. She could think of Robert without feeling the pain of his loss. She remembered how peacefully he had been sleeping last night. She hoped his death had been as calm.

Cassi suddenly pulled herself back from the abyss of sleep. With a jolt she realized that she must have been one of the last people to see Robert alive. She wondered at what time he’d died. If only she’d been there maybe she could have done something. Thomas certainly might have saved him.

Cassi stared into the darkness. of her eyelids. The memory of Thomas coming into Robert’s room replayed itself slowly in her mind. She remembered her shock at seeing him. Thomas had said that when he hadn’t found Cassi in her room, he’d assumed she was visiting Robert. That had satisfied her at the time, but now Cassi wondered why Thomas would have been visiting her in the middle of the night.

Cassi tried to imagine what the autopsy on Robert showed, wondering specifically if a definitive mechanism of death was found. She didn’t want to think about such things, but she found herself worrying if Robert had been cyanotic or if he’d convulsed at the time of his death. All at once Cassi began to fear that Robert might have been a candidate for his own study. He could have been case twenty. What if the last person to see Robert alive had been Thomas? What if Thomas had gone back to Robert’s room after he’d left her? What if Thomas’s sudden change of behavior was not as innocent as it appeared?

Cassi began to shake. She knew she was being paranoid, and knew how self-fulfilling delusions could be. She understood the stress she’d been under, and she’d had an enormous amount of drugs, including the sleep medication that she could already feel sapping her ability to think.

Yet her mind would not give up its horrifying thoughts. Involuntarily she found herself recognizing the fact that the first SSD case occurred at the same time as Thomas’s residency. Cassi wondered if any of the deaths coincided with the nights Thomas had spent in the hospital.

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