In Dr. Lugo’s office, Steven woke, feeling gritty and out of it. He sat and rubbed his face. The clock over the doctor’s desk said 10:20. Sunshine slatted in the shuttered windows. He noticed a faint minty smell in the air, as if someone had spilled mouthwash.
Conrad, bloodwork, lab, answers. Steven bounded to his feet and shook off his lethargy.
The nurses at the main station seemed confused. “¿Que? Conrad? ¿Numero, por favor?”
“Conrad Stalton, he was brought in this morning. Very high fever, convulsions. Where is he? Donde?”
“¿Senor, quieres medico?” The nurse put one hand on the phone, her eyes confused. She glanced over Steven’s slept-in clothes and unshaven face with a crinkle of her nose.
“¿Ingles, habla Ingles, por favor?” Steven slapped one palm on the ugly green counter. “Doe
