I had had a headache all day, and about six miles from the 70 junction into St. Louis, my vertigo returned with a vengeance. Oddly, my first thought was that there was an earthquake, as the spinning was much worse than before. I staggered then fell, landing partially on my pack, which cushioned my fall. I rolled to my stomach and began violently vomiting, struggling to hold myself upright as my head throbbed with pain. What was happening to me?

“McKale,” I groaned. It’s the last thing I remember before passing out.

Chapter Twenty-six

C H A P T E R

Twenty-six

Déjà vu.

Alan Christoffersen’s diary

I woke in the hospital. I couldn’t believe that I was in a hospital again—it was the third time since I’d left Seattle. I hadn’t been in a hospital that many times in my entire life. The room was dim and I could hear the beeping and whirring of machines. I looked over at my arm. It was bruised and there was an IV taped to it.

“It’s about time you woke,” a voice said. I looked over to see a young, African-American nurse standing to the side of the room reading a machine.

“Where am I?”

“You are at the St. Louis University Hospital.”

“How did I get here?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I wasn’t here when you arrived. Do you remember anything?”

“I was just walking, when I suddenly got dizzy and everything started to spin. I must have blacked out.” I looked at her. “What’s wrong with me?”

“I’ll leave that to the doctor to talk to you about,” she said. “In the meantime, there’s someone here to see you.”

I couldn’t imagine who it could be. “I don’t know anyone around here.”

“Well, she knows you. She’s been in the waiting room for three hours. I’ll send her in.” She walked out of the room.

I stared at the door, wondering who could possibly be here to see me. Falene suddenly appeared in the doorway.

“Hi,” she said sweetly.

“Falene. What are you doing here?”

She walked to the side of my bed. “The police called me. I was the last number you dialed on your cell phone.”

“… You came all this way?”

“Of course I did. You needed me.” I noticed that her eyes were red, as if she’d been crying. A tear rolled down her cheek.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

She shook her head.

“What is it, Falene?”

The tears fell faster. She furtively wiped her eyes then looked away from me.

“Falene …”

She reached over and took my hand. Her hand felt soft and warm. “Your father will be here soon,” she said. “Can he tell you?”

“Is it bad?”

She just stared at me, tears rolling down her cheeks.