Chapters (47)
- Front Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Contents
- Part One
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Part Two
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Part Three
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Acknowledgments
- Excerpt from Survive the Dome
- Prologue
- 6 Months Later
- One
- About the Author
- Back Cover
The first person I see when I open my eyes is Mom. She’s chewing on her nails, talking with the doctor—a woman with a tight bun and light brown skin—with a worried expression on her face. Dad’s back is to me, but I see him nodding frantically, causing his whole body to shake. It’s as if none of them expect me to wake up.
But the look on the doctor’s face isn’t concern.
I like her.
“He’s awake,” Blake says.
I turn my head and see him. He’s not sitting in the chair next to me but standing by the window, his arms crossed stiffly. His eyes don’t stay on mine for long; he quickly turns away.
I try to open my mouth to speak, but before I can, Mom, Dad, and Mr. and Mrs. McIntyre crowd around me (to Mom and Dad’s surprise).
“Baby,” Mom breathes out, kissing my cheeks and forehead more times than I think she’s ever done. “You gave us a scare. Are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt? Do you feel any pain?”
“You gave us a fright, son,” Dad says in that way that’s softly scolding but actually caring.
Claire and Greg say nothing, but the look on their faces says it all.
Concern. Unbridled concern.
The doctor squeezes past Mom and Dad, standing by my side. She pulls out her stethoscope, placing the cold metal against my chest.
“I’m Dr. Kapoor. How are you feeling, Andre?” she asks, moving it from spot to spot.
“Cold,” I whisper.
“We’ll get some blankets for you. Any headache? Stomachache? Dizziness? Pain?”
“Abdomen,” I say as confidently as I can. Maybe that’ll make them think I’m not hurting as much as I am. When, in fact, everything—every nerve—hurts.
I don’t want to think what is screaming in my head. If I think it, I’ll say it, and if I say it, that might make it a reality.
“Is his body rejecting the liver?” Mom says it for me.
Dr. Kapoor doesn’t answer at first. She checks my chart, the machines, her watch, and then a few other vitals before turning to my parents.
“It’s not that simple.” When she sees their reaction, she quickly adds, “But I want to run some more tests on Andre. See what we’re dealing with. If it is, and that is the worst-case scenario, we caught it early. We can give him drugs and hopefully reverse the effects.”
“Hopefully?” Dad asks. “And, by the way, where is…”