Saving Aeron

Graceless

The stench of the antiseptic hospital clung to her skin. Thankfully, she had trained herself to breath without smelling, a nice little party trick that keeps offensive odors out of her nose. The tenuous relationship the Aeron Pack had with the hospital made Brigh uneasy. They poured millions of dollars into the finances as long as the doctors and nurses who saw their charts were members of the pack. As a result, Mount Ayr Hospital was one of the premier research and teaching hospitals in the state.

Brigh’s mother had created the relationship and Brigh sat on the board of directors, listening to the stale reports and miniscule movements towards curing diseases that ate even at the fast healing abilities of the wolves. She dismissed her frustrations with her sister as she opened the door and took her seat at the table.

Beige piled on beige under florescent lighting washing up and down the hallways is the opposite of all that loved. Deep in the building, no windows let the natural light in, trapping her far from the warmth of the sun and the feel of the grass.

“Glad you could join us, Mrs. Donnelly.” Dr. Olivia Plamen looked over the rim of her glasses and smiled just enough to wrinkle her nose in disgust.

“Thank you, Dr. Plamen. It’s been a rough few months with my husband’s injury and my brother in law losing his leg. I’m so grateful we’ve been able to help fund the infectious disease ward even it hasn’t helped my family in finding a cure for Balor.” She didn’t need to grease her words with sweetness or line them with sarcasm. She spoke plainly and took care to maintain eye contact with the other woman.

“We’re here to discuss just that.” The chair of the board, Dr. Shiloh Winn, motioned to Brigh’s seat. “If you’ll turn to page twenty-seven, you’ll see Dr. Burdo’s findings on the necrotic tissue we removed from the patient’s leg last week. While we haven’t been able to save this limb, we were able to” His voice drowned away as Brigh flipped through the monthly report.

She hadn’t formally trained in medicine but she studied enough to know what they were talking about. Her mother had instilled in her a readiness for whatever may come her way. The lights dimmed and a new face stood at the head of the table.

“Dr. Mclain has been overseeing the project and we believe we can create a regenerative tissue to form a barrier between the necrotic tissue and the healthy tissue.” Dr. Winn nodded at the doctor standing by the screen.

“More that that, we will have the ability to steer that healthy tissue to take back some of the newly infected tissue.” Dr. Mclain walked the board through slides and studies but Brigh was distracted by Riagan, who paced unusually quickly, as if to pounce but not quite sure.

“Dr. Mclain, how does this differ from skeletal muscle stem cell regrowth?”

“Muscle and tissue injury already have the capacity for regeneration. Current surgical intervention and grafts along with physical therapy have made tremendous strides. However, for large volumes, such as in your brother in law’s case, we’d have to regrow the bone, the veins, and the muscle. Naturally, muscles will grow but using a biomaterial to act as the bone, we can teach it. If we can create this biomaterial in the lab, we theorize we can implant undeveloped bone mass into the patient and with therapy cause that to grow with the muscle.”

“And the veins?”

“We’re working with transplant veins now.”

She cut him off. “Fibrotic scar tissue?”

“We can reduce scar formation with laser therapy and injections.” He continued onto the next slide.

As the lights went on, the doctors around the table chattered about the groundbreaking research and inquiring about infectious diseases in compromised immune responses after porcine intestinal submucosa transplants. That was where she lost interest. She loved the discovery but couldn’t get past intestines from anything else going into another body.

Leaving the room before Dr. Plamen could offer up any quip about her unfit placement on the board, Brigh braced herself for the long hallway between her and the elevator, a minute ride to the foyer, and a brisk walk out the doors.

“Ms. Donnelly.” As she reached the elevator, Dr. Mclain stopped her. “Will you consider awarding the hospital a grant to study new strategies for safer muscle repair and regeneration?”

“You presented quite the convincing argument.” He followed her onto the elevator. Riagan was at it again, pacing, ready to pounce, not on attack, but joy. Once the doors closed, she turned to him. “Do I know you?”

He laughed. “No. But I’m excited to be working here with you.” He bowed his head. “I’m Kai Mclain, from the Talsarn Pack. My Alpha sent an emissary and returned with permissions for me to study here. I’ve been approved for six months and if you see fit, I’d like to continue on as my research progresses.”

She rolled her eyes. Her sister took care of the visitors and hadn’t mentioned a long term visitor setting up in the hospital. “Nice to meet you. I’m sorry I didn’t get that information. Welcome.” She held out her hand. Warmth shot up her arm like electricity. She quickly pulled back.

At once, she was assaulted with a pungent, bitter smell, the hospital broke through her nasal defenses. She fell into him, dizzy with the sudden onset of overwhelming smells. But in his arms, those faded behind the smell of sun on his skin, dirt on his hands, and the wind in his hair. She could see him on a farm, next to a river, digging in the sun with sweat dripping down his forehead.

She threw herself back and clung to the metal railing on the wall. She rubbed her eyes and bolted out the door as he called after her.

“I’m sorry.” He smiled. “I never thought I’d meet you.”