ALICE'S POVI organized my medical bag before I remembered I wasn't allowed to treat anyone.The instruments were clean. They'd been clean for days. I took them out anyway — stethoscope, blood pressure cuff, otoscope — and laid them along the desk in the order I use them during an exam. Then placed them back in the bag. Then my own shelf: bandages by size, syringes by gauge, the little of it I keep in this house. The list of what's in that bag didn't need rewriting. I rewrote it anyway.It kept my hands busy so my head didn't have to sit still. Didn't have to land on Lily's hand reaching for the desk, or Lisa's voice in that chamber, or the name that came up when Harris asked who wanted me dead.The window was open. Outside, the compound got on with its morning — children near the fountain, warriors in the training yard, somebody two houses along running a mower before six.Then a voice went up, a child's, high and frightened.Somebody get a doctor right now!Another, further off, alr
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