Blacke Harbor

Erik sat back against the vinyl seat of the little electric cart and closed his eyes, letting the damp smell of Blacke Island’s ancient trees fill his nostrils as the little vehicle snaked its way up the meandering driveway. He sensed Catherine turning in her seat to look at him and opened his eyes just in time to see a hawk swoop down near the edge of the water and catch a small rabbit in its talons.

“You began prep a week ago, correct?”

She was speaking to him but looking at the file folder which lay open in her hands. Erik tried to steal a look at the file but saw it was written in an alphabet he had never seen before. Some sort of code, he thought. Another of the security measures Jurgis told him about.

“I’d like to go ahead and start the actual treatments this evening,” she said, looking up at him. “By starting on a Friday we’ll end on a Friday. Some of our patients like to take the first weekend after treatment ends to give themselves time to readjust before they leave for home.”

She paused, Erik assumed, to give him the opportunity to ask questions. When he did not, she continued. “Personally, I prefer to be as aggressive as possible so if you can tolerate the injections I would like to give you one every eight hours. By Monday we should be getting a good idea of how well you’re responding and we’ll adjust the schedule accordingly.”