“And what if I want to leave?” I ask. “What if I don’t want the treatment or the tests? Can I walk out that door?”

Dr. Haddox takes a breath. I feel him consider dodging the question, then decide instead to play it straight.

“No, you can’t leave,” he says. “Not yet. But if you come with me, I can introduce you to the others and schedule your blood draw. That will at least—well, move things along.”

“I need to know if Jasper’s okay first,” I say. “My friend from the bridge? Dr. Alvarez said she was going to check on him.”

He nods. “Of course, she was headed to make the call when I came in here. We can find her on the way.”

9

THE HALLWAY IS EMPTY. NOT A HUMAN BEING IN SIGHT. THOUGH IN ALL OTHER respects, it looks like a normal hospital: a nurses’ station with expandable racks full of manila folders, assorted medical equipment scattered nearby, and open rooms lining the hall, even an unoccupied stretcher at the far end. But there is something deeply unnerving about the hollow silence. Like we’ve stumbled upon a place that has already been evacuated.

“Where is everybody?” I ask.

“They’re all down in the common room,” he says, motioning ahead.

“What is this place? And why are there no people in it?”

“Oh,” Dr. Haddox says, looking surprised again by how little I know. “Boston General Hospital, but this is a new wing. It’s at minimal capacity. Come on, I think you and I will both feel better when you’re in the common area.”

As we’re stepping past the nurses’ station, I spot a phone on the desk. “Can I try to call my dad here?” I ask. I do want to call him, but it is also a test.

“Of course, absolutely,” Dr. Haddox says without hesitating, and he seems genuinely relieved. Like he’d love nothing more than for me to have that conversation. He steps forward and hands me the receiver. “Dial nine to get an outside line.”

I still expect for something to stop me, for Dr. Haddox to have some sudden excuse. But then the phone is ringing, the call going right to voice mail. I leave a message. “Dad, it’s Wylie. I’m at Boston General Hospital in the—”

“Dwyer Wing.”

“Dwyer Wing,” I say. “These people brought me here. They’re from the NIH. They’re saying I and some other people have some PANDAS thing. Can you come here? Or call? As soon as you can?”

I hang up, look at Dr. Haddox. “He can call me, right?”

“Of course,” he says. “We’re hoping he does. As I said, we’ve already left several messages. Dr. Cornelia specifically said that—”

“Wait, who?” My heart has picked up even more speed.