Rascentia

Rascentia

Dr. Sarah Morris struggled to focus on the pale, smooth-skinned speaker. Her stomach ached in its battle to digest the buttery seafood pasta medley she had just consumed. The beginnings of a headache seeped into the space behind her eyes. She shouldn’t have indulged in the glass of red wine, but she had a long stressful day at the clinic and the dinner bill was on the sales rep.

She glanced around the table to see if her staff were paying better attention than she was. The private room in the upscale Italian restaurant was cast in shadows. The only lighting consisted of the flickering LED candles placed on the table and the glow from the PowerPoint projected on the wall. Two of her three doctors were focused on the speaker, cataloging the information being presented. One even scrawled notes in her battered spiral notebook that she seemed to always be referencing at work. The third doctor’s head was down, the illumination of her phone screen obvious in the dark room. The practice manager watched the presentation eagerly; Sarah could practically see the dollar signs behind her eyes.

A gentle kick to the side of her calf had Sarah narrowing her eyes at Imani, who sat in the chair beside her. Imani angled her chin to the bullet points and scientific diagram. Imani had been the first employee that Sarah hired when she opened her veterinary clinic. They had now worked together for seven years, including the two years prior to Sarah taking the leap to open her own hospital. Imani, a skilled Registered Veterinary Technician, had no qualms about calling Sarah out when needed.

The sales team had decided to go with a dark purple accent on their slides, with Rascentia prominently placed on every slide. The current slide was a list of all the disease processes that the Rascentia stem cells could be used to treat. The list was extensive, ranging from osteoarthritis to dry eye disease. From the portions of the lecture that Sarah had heard when her mind wasn’t wandering to the list of tasks that needed to be done for the clinic or to some of her more complicated cases, the Rascentia stem cells sounded amazing. But this was the case anytime a drug rep presented a new product, time always told if a new drug was worth all the hype. Sarah had agreed to the dinner outing and lecture for her team because the research papers released so far had been promising. The veterinary universities who had early access to the stem cells were reporting remarkable successes. The paid-for fancy dinner for her team had also been difficult to turn down. It had been a while since a sales rep had paid for more than a lunch and learn with pizza at the clinic.

“Dr. Morris, do you have any questions?”

The sound of her name jerked Sarah from her current thought tangent. The sales rep looked at her expectantly. Her skin really was very smooth. The sales rep must have an intense daily skin care regimen on top of regular Botox. Sarah took a sip of ice water while she scrambled to think of a question.

“That is quite the list of disease processes that Rascentia stem cells can be used to treat. Is the product labeled for all of those?”

The sales rep’s lips curled into a smile that didn’t expose her teeth. She clicked the remote in her hand to reveal the next slide. “Rascentia is currently labeled for managing osteoarthritis and nonsurgical care of torn cranial cruciate ligaments in dogs.” The severe angle of her shiny, midnight-black hair bobbed with enthusiasm as she launched into the exciting studies being done on off-label usage of the product.

Dr. Leonard looked up from her cellphone and cleared her throat. “Are there any plans for getting approval for usage in cats?”

“Our parent company is in phase one of clinical trials for FDA approval for the use in humans, but currently we have no plans for a feline product.”

Dr. Leonard snorted, returning her focus to her phone. She preferred to treat cats and would frequently rant about the limited number of drugs labeled specifically for cats.

The sales rep continued to click through slides. Sarah gave up on trying to pay attention. She resigned herself to go through all the information that the rep would undoubtedly leave with her. Any questions she had she could ask when the woman followed up in the next couple of days with a sales pitch.

Sarah was itching to get home when the lecture ended. The practice manager Renee was deep in conversation with the sales rep while she packed up her things. Dr. Leonard had already left, starting the bail train the moment the last slide appeared. The other two doctors sipped the espresso martinis they had just ordered, taking full advantage of the situation.

“Imani, let’s go,” Sarah offered. Imani nodded gratefully. She had to be as exhausted as Sarah was. They both had to stay late at the clinic with an aggressive dog that needed sedation to treat an ear infection. Without time to go home and change, they had carpooled together in Sarah’s SUV straight from the clinic to the restaurant. Even with the fashionable cut of her bonsai green scrubs, she had been wildly underdressed with her tennis shoes and ponytail.

The misty night air felt cool against her skin and helped remove some of the tiredness that creeped in while sitting in the warm restaurant. The sky was pitch black, January in Northern California meant the sun had set hours before. Imani slid into the passenger seat and Sarah navigated the SUV toward the two-lane, pine tree lined road that led back to the clinic. Sarah turned her brights on, thankful that she had the wide bends of the dark forest road memorized. Imani had turned the heater on and Sarah’s lids started to feel heavy again.

“So, what did you think?” Sarah kept her eyes on the road as she spoke.

“We should look into getting it. I am surprised our clients aren’t already asking for it.”

Sarah nodded. Being one hour North of San Francisco, meant a segment of her client base had both the money and the interest for using stem cell therapy on their pet dogs. Imani turned the radio on, leaning forward to scroll through the stations. A sleek gray figure stepped out onto the opposite side of the road. Sarah slammed on the brakes, causing Imani to jerk forward into her seat belt.

“Morris!” Imani shouted as she fell back into the seat. Imani froze, looking out the windshield. They both watched the large gray dog stagger across the road. The dog stopped directly in front of their car. It swayed on its feet, reflective eyes staring at them. The dog expelled a heavy breath through its nostrils, fogging the air, and then collapsed. Imani and Sarah turned to face each other, seeing the agreement in the other’s eyes they both stepped out of the car.

The dog was massive, likely close to 100 pounds. Its thick coat was made up of a multitude of shades of gray. Sarah scanned the dog, its chest rising and falling but not without effort. The headlights of her SUV illuminated fresh blood matting the gray fur of the animal’s neck.

Imani crept closer crouching down. “Is that a wolf?”

“Don’t touch him, let me get a slip lead from the car.”

Sarah returned to her car snatching a sky-blue lead from the side door. The leash had the name of her clinic printed in white letters down the side. Imani stood and Sarah handed the lead to Imani.

“Use the lead to make a muzzle.” Sarah instructed. Imani moved slowly to the head of the dog-wolf. It did look like a wolf, but a wolf running loose in Northern California? Sarah focused her attention on Imani. “Be careful.”

Imani rolled her eyes. Imani stood as far back as she could and unfurled the lead, dangling it above the head of the dog. Maybe it was a wolf-dog hybrid? Imani gently dragged the lead across the dog’s head a couple of times, when the animal didn’t react, she made a loop with the lead and slipped it over the muzzle without having to touch the animal. She then moved forward and wrapped the lead several times around the muzzle further securing it. Throughout it all the dog-wolf remained motionless. With the makeshift muzzle in place and Imani at the head, Sarah crouched down beside the dog-wolf. Other than the blood on the neck, she couldn’t see any other obvious wounds. Sarah ran her hand through the thick fur on the dog’s hind leg, moving her hand to the inner aspect of the leg. A low rumbling growl ran through the animal’s body. Sarah flicked her eyes to Imani.

Imani reassured Sarah “I got him Morris, he isn’t moving.”

Sarah moved her hand until she could feel the dog-wolf’s pulse. The pulse felt weak and thready beneath her fingers, the animal’s heart racing. “We have to get him back to the clinic.” Sarah stated.

Imani’s eyes widened. “Shouldn’t we call animal control or something? What if it’s a wolf?”

“It’s not a wolf, and it will be dead before animal control gets here.” Imani recognized the determination in Sarah’s voice, knowing now was not the time to argue. Sarah rushed back to her SUV, opening up the trunk, she pulled out two balled up dirty beach towels. She put down the back seats and spread out the beach towels. Sarah hurried back to Imani, still crouched at their patient’s head. Yes, the dog-wolf was now a patient and they were going to save him.

“He’s still breathing.”

Sarah nodded. “Good, you get the head and I’ll get the hind end. We can load him in the back of the SUV. Keep the muzzle on.”

Sarah and Imani moved into position with the ease of having worked together for seven years. Sarah slipped her hands underneath their patient’s waist while Imani had one arm below the forelegs and one beneath the neck. Sarah looked to Imani again. “On the count of three?”

“Are you sure you can lift him, Morris?” It was Sarah’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Whatever, Imani, 1-2-3.” Sarah grunted with the effort of lifting him. Her quads and lower back straining. Together they shuffled to the back of the SUV, heaving dog-wolf into position. Sarah was panting as she finally pushed the back half of the dog-wolf in. “It looks like he is actually a she.” Sarah slammed the trunk closed and they hurried to get themselves in the car. The dog-wolf had only lifted her head once with a single growl of protest when they had loaded her into the car.

Sarah sped down the road to the clinic. Her heart pounding, she gripped the wheel with sweaty hands. She was tired of going over expense reports, carefully thinking through every purchase for the hospital. Budgeting for raises and next year’s marketing plan. She was tired of creating estimates for recommended care and having the owners ask her what she thought was most important. Sarah just wanted to treat a pet the best she could without worrying about all the other bullshit.

Sarah backed her SUV up to the front doors of the clinic. Punching in the key code, she turned to Imani, “let’s get the gurney.” Just because they had lifted the dog-wolf into the back of her SUV didn’t mean they had to carry the humongous patient into the treatment area. Sarah worked on maneuvering the gurney while Imani flipped on the lights, turning on the x-ray machine and oxygen without a second thought. An excited bark from the dog runs echoed off empty clinic walls.

Imani had brought her Great Dane, Stella, to work with her. Sarah had insisted that it wouldn’t be necessary, that she would have plenty of time to go home after work and change prior to the dinner. Imani had laughed and said she planned on bringing Stella to work just in case there wasn’t time to go home and let her out. Earlier that evening when everyone else had left and Sarah and Imani were waiting for the last-minute-work-in ear infection dog, that required sedation to wake up, Imani had smiled and stated “Good thing, I brought Stella to work with me today.”

Imani hopped into the trunk and they slid the patient with minimal awkwardness onto the gurney. Sarah’s brows bunched with concern at the weakened reaction from the dog-wolf. Together they pushed the gurney towards the treatment area.

Sarah rattled off her plan, “Let’s get a catheter placed, pull blood for a CBC/CHEM, and bolus a liter of fluids.”

With the patient transferred onto the treatment table, Imani and Sarah burst into action. Sarah put their patient on flow by oxygen and connected monitoring equipment while Imani placed the catheter and pulled blood. Her pulses were weak but still present. Using her stethoscope, Sarah listened to the patient’s lungs and frantically beating heart. The dog-wolf’s rapid heart rate matched Sarah’s. As a general practitioner veterinarian, it wasn’t common for her to stabilize crashing patients. Using a tongue depressor, she tentatively lifted a portion of their patient’s lip, trying not to disturb the makeshift muzzle. The patient emitted another growl, the reaction gave Sarah some comfort until she notated the white coloration of the dog-wolf’s gums. Imani was just starting to run the blood work but the pale gum color told Sarah their patient was going to be severely anemic.

Sarah’s eyes roved over the patient’s body while she prepared the liter of fluids. She couldn’t find any additional wounds besides the blood-matted fur on the lower neck region, and there was no evidence that the wounds were continuing to bleed. The fluids running, Sarah shaved a square of thick fur from the patient’s abdomen. The ultrasound machine had just finished powering on, Imani having thought to turn it on at some point during the mayhem. Using the ultrasound probe Sarah scanned for any evidence of bleeding into the abdomen and sighed with relief when she didn’t see any. As much as she wanted to save the patient, she wasn’t sure if she would jump into an abdominal surgery.

“CBCs done, patient is severely anemic, hematocrit is 15%,” Imani shouted over her shoulder, her focus still on loading the remaining blood in for the chemistry panel.

At hearing the results Sarah’s heart dropped. The dog-wolf needed a blood transfusion. They didn’t have any blood products and their patient would not survive long enough to be transferred to an ER vet. She should just euthanize the patient and be okay with at least giving her a peaceful passing.

“Imani, scan her for a microchip.” After pressing start on the blood machine, Imani retrieved the microchip scanner and ran it along the patient’s spine and shoulders. She looked up at Sarah, and shook her head. “She’s not chipped. What do you want to do, Morris?”

Sarah glanced at the monitoring equipment. There was some improvement in the vital parameters with the fluid bolus but it wouldn’t last long; the patient needed blood.

“She needs blood, so we are going to do a blood transfusion.”

Imani’s jaw dropped for an instant before she snapped it shut. “What blood are we going to use?”

“Can we use Stella’s?”

Imani nodded, excitement passing over her features. She left for the dog runs without another word. Not wanting to leave the patient’s side, Sarah pulled out her smartphone and logged into an online veterinary forum. Sarah hadn’t done a blood transfusion on a patient since her internship right out of vet school ten years ago. She scanned the protocol for a blood transfusion. She was going to have to skip some of the steps and didn’t have all of the recommended equipment. It didn’t change the fact that if she didn’t try something, the dog-wolf was going to die.

Stella came bounding around the corner into the treatment area, Imani trailing behind on the thin lead. At the sight of their patient Stella froze. Her ears moved forward and her tail straightened. Imani broke Stella’s hyper focused gaze, ushering Stella to a corner to sit. Sarah switched places to restrain Stella while Imani pulled blood. Being a technician’s dog meant Stella was used to blood draws and handling, Stella held still and Imani pulled the amount of blood that Sarah had calculated would be safe. Given their patient’s needs it wasn’t likely to be sufficient, but Sarah wasn’t willing to give up.

Sarah didn’t want to play it safe anymore, worrying about average client transaction rates, or making mistakes. Sarah’s clients loved their pets and often viewed them as part of their family. That love could make Sarah feel as if she was walking along the edge of a knife. Owners’ willingness to spend money on their pets is what allowed her business to succeed, but practicing medicine was never straightforward. When a pet didn’t improve with treatment or the diagnosis wasn’t found with the tests she recommended, owners often blamed the veterinarian. Sarah’s long-term clients trusted her implicitly, and the burden of their trust weighed on her, causing her to be overly cautious with their pet’s care. Imani finished pulling blood from Stella and Sarah kept pressure on Stella’s jugular vein where Imani had pulled blood from. It felt freeing to follow her instinct in this moment, doing whatever it took to save the dog-wolf. She wasn’t stressing about if she was doing everything by the book and whether each decision she made would be scrutinized if she failed to save the patient.

Having returned Stella to the dog runs, Imani got to work on administering the blood to their patient. The transfusion underway, Sarah intently watched the dog-wolf’s vital parameters.

“Imani, start shaving the fur around the wounds on the neck so we can better assess them.” The clinic was both quiet and loud. Neither Imani or Sarah spoke, their patient unmoving on the wet table. The treatment room was usually filled with patients, doctors and technicians. Excited puppies barking for whipped cream as they got their vaccines, a technician hollering when a cat threatened to break loose from their grip. Now the empty room echoed with the buzz of the clippers and the steady chorus of beeping from the monitoring equipment. With only the necessary lights turned on, corners of the clinic were shrouded in shadows.

“Morris, come look at this.”

Imani had shaved away the fur leaving a neat rectangle of exposed skin on their patient’s neck. Two jagged puncture wounds about four centimeters apart were the only wounds. Sarah frowned, the dog-wolf had clearly been bitten by some sort of animal, but the wound was not severe enough to result in the patients’ level of blood loss. Sarah turned her attention back to the monitoring equipment; the dog-wolf’s vital parameters were already starting to stabilize. A surge of relief washed over Sarah at the sight, followed by a twinge of confusion; she hadn’t expected the patient to improve as quickly as it was.

“Imani, get a basket muzzle.” Understanding flooded Imani and she leapt into action. Imani fitted the muzzle, adjusting the straps for a snug fit. Muzzle in place she pulled on the dangling end of the lead that comprised the makeshift muzzle, intent on removing it from beneath the basket muzzle. A low growl was the only warning they got. The dog-wolf rolled into a sternal position, snarled, and made to lunge at Imani. The patient was halfway off the table when Sarah flung herself on top of her. Sarah cursed at the sound of the expensive clippers clattering to the ground. The patient’s debilitated state allowed Sarah to keep her penned on the table. The fluid pump wailed at the line being overstretched, and the beeping of the monitors became discombobulated as they were no longer connected to the patient.

Sarah gritted her teeth fighting to subdue the patient. “Imani, get the sedative from the drug safe.” Struggling to keep the panic from her voice she relayed dosage of the drug. Imani’s hands shook slightly as she pulled up the liquid from the vial, injecting it into the wolf-dog’s IV catheter. The tension slowly left the room as the muscles in the wolf-dog relaxed under Sarah’s body, and the patient slumped back onto the table. Sarah eased herself off the wolf-dog, immediately working with Imani to adjust the patient back on the table and reconnect the fluids, blood and monitoring equipment. The adrenaline rush of working to save a dying patient had been further compounded with the close call of being attacked by said patient, and it was not going to wear off anytime soon.

“Are you sure this isn’t a wolf?”

Sarah pointedly ignored her question. “When the transfusion is complete, we need to take survey radiographs.” Sarah didn’t want to consider the possibility of the wolf hybrid actually being a wolf. Maybe somebody had illegally kept a wolf and it had escaped. If the patient survived Sarah planned on calling animal control in the morning and then it would be their problem. Imani and Sarah worked together to take x-rays of their patient’s chest and abdomen. Sarah was slightly out of breath from the effort of maneuvering the 100 lb animal on the x-ray table. She left Imani to continue to monitor the vital parameters. Sarah padded into the doctor’s office, turning on the lights and powering up her computer. Sarah scanned the x-rays looking for any broken bones or evidence of internal bleeding. Sarah let herself feel hopeful for the wolf-dog when she didn’t find any abnormalities. Pulling up the completed blood work she reviewed the chemistry profile. The only abnormal value was a low protein. The anemia and the low protein confirmed blood loss, but where was the blood going? The wounds on the neck weren’t bad enough and there was no evidence of trauma on the x-rays. Maybe the wolf-dog ate rat bait and was bleeding into her intestines?

Sarah continued to mull over possibilities and returned to the treatment room. Imani was busy cleaning the skin around the wounds. “Do you want to suture these close?”

Sarah glanced back at the monitoring equipment. The vital parameters had remained stable, and their patient was still sedated from the medication that they had administered.

Sarah pulled on her sterile gloves and probed at the puncture wounds. Did the punctures seem like they were getting smaller? Sarah closed her eyes and opened them again; it was getting late, and the wolf-dog would be waking up from the sedation soon. With her scalpel blade she freshened the edges of the puncture wounds and sutured them closed.

The wounds were sutured closed and their patient was starting to show signs of waking up. Imani and Sarah worked together to move the wolf-dog into one of the dog runs. None of the treatment cages were big enough and Sarah didn’t want to deal with moving her once she was fully awake. They set their patient down on a pile of blankets Imani had laid out in the run. The fluid line remained connected to the patient with the fluid pump on the other side of the cage. At the metallic clink of the kennel door closing the wolf-dog lifted her head. Her yellow eyes focused with intensity on Sarah, she snarled, baring a menacing set of teeth. Sarah and Imani held their breath fearing the patient would lunge at them, disconnecting the fluid line. The wolf-dog’s gaze gripped them, her large gray head swayed and then collapsed back onto the bedding. The lingering effects of sedation and nearly dying earlier forced her back into a sleeping state.

Sarah’s shoulders relaxed and she and Imani drifted back into the treatment room to begin cleaning up. The rush of cortisol had ended and the effects were slowly leaking out of her. The sense of accomplishment at saving their patient was tempered by the unanswered question of what had caused wolf-dog’s state to begin with. Before putting the wolf-dog in the run, they had rechecked her red cell count and Sarah was shocked at the level to which it had improved. Based on the calculations from the online vet forum, the amount of blood she had given should not have improved their patient as much as it had. On top of that she still could not figure out how the blood loss had occurred in the first place. After her thought about rat bait poisoning, Sarah had checked the clotting parameters and found them to be normal. Sarah chided herself, telling her brain to stop. She had accomplished her mission and saved the wolf-dog at least for now. There was nothing else to be done tonight.

Imani’s voice brought her back to the present “Good job tonight, Morris”

“You too Imani, thanks for staying late to help.”

A satisfied smile formed on her lips. “No problem, it was fun.”

Sarah failed to prevent a choked laugh from escaping. Fun wasn’t the word she would have used. Exhilarating or stressful were better descriptors. “You should go home; I am going to stay. I feel bad leaving her.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”

“Yes, I will be fine.”

Imani crossed her arms, studying Sarah. “I am going to come in at six in the morning, so you can go home and shower.”

The persistent whining of the fluid pump dragged Sarah from her fitful sleep. The muscles in Sarah’s neck protested as she sat up from the couch in the break room where she had dozed off. She swung her feet to the floor knocking her cell phone onto the ground. With a grunt she bent over to pick it up. Her eyes struggled to focus on the bright screen and the numbers that read 5:45 AM. Below the time there was a notification banner stating the front door of the hospital had been opened. The notification caused all vestiges of sleep and stiffness to snap from her body. Sarah had set the hospital alarm system once Imani had left. Maybe Imani had come early, she had a code to the hospital and was planning on being here shortly. Surely someone wouldn’t break into the hospital, her car was in the parking lot and their sleepy coastal town had little crime. That hadn’t stopped her from putting in an alarm system in the first place though.

Slipping on her tennis shoes, Sarah cracked open the door of the break room and headed to the front of the hospital. The insistent shrill beeping from the fluid pump continued from the dog runs. Sarah scanned the reception area; nothing was amiss, the front door closed. Sarah silently returned to the break room; grabbing the tool box from under the sink she extracted a hammer. Hammer raised, she moved in the direction of the treatment area. The piercing beeping getting louder.

“Imani?” her voice bounced down the hall. The only response was the fluid pump’s shrieking. How did manufactures manage to select a frequency for the fluid pump beep so that it was the most annoying sound possible? Rounding the corner into the treatment room, Sarah’s focus went straight to the controlled drug safe, some of the tension leaving her body when she saw it was undisturbed and closed. Sarah let her arm drop, holding the hammer loosely in her hand. It was time to check on her patient and see what was upsetting the fluid pump.

The hammer clanged on the cement floor of the kennels. Her patient’s cage door was ajar. Sarah took another step forward. The run was empty. The fluid line disconnected and knotted on the floor.

“Morris?” Imani’s voice battled with the beeping.

Sarah robotically moved to the fluid pump, powering it down. The sudden silence was deafening. Sarah gaped at the empty run.

“How is Nymeria doing?”

Sarah’s brow crinkled in question. “Who is Nymeria?”

Imani held a red disposable cup of coffee in her hand, which she extended to Sarah. “Our patient, I named her Nymeria.”

Sarah took the cup of coffee. “She’s gone.” She raised the cup to her lips; the coffee was piping hot, its bitterness made enjoyable with the perfect proportion of half and half.

“What?!” Imani moved to Sarah’s side, bearing witness to the empty run.

“I really hope she isn’t a wolf.”

Sarah hung up the phone and sank back into her chair. The remainder of her callbacks would have to wait until tomorrow. She was mentally and physically exhausted. Her last appointment had canceled and she had blocked it off before reception could fill it with another patient. She needed to get home and decompress from the day and the events of last night.

After finding the empty run, she had reviewed camera footage of the hospital. Sarah had cameras installed in the treatment area and the reception of the hospital. The footage showed a barefooted woman emerge from the area of the dogs runs. She clung to a piece of bedding tightly wrapped around her. The woman was then seen in the lobby exiting the front of the hospital. No sign of the wolf-dog. Sarah had called the police and they had come by the clinic. They watched the footage, and asked Sarah several questions. “No, nothing had been stolen from the clinic.” “Yes, their patient was missing.” “No, they didn’t know the owner of the wolf-dog and were treating it as a stray.”

The police told her the woman was likely on drugs or having some sort of mental health crisis. They asked Sarah if she would like to press charges for trespassing, though the woman was unlikely to ever be identified. Sarah declined. Sarah had inquired about the wolf-dog and the police had told her the cameras had probably glitched and failed to record it leaving with the woman.

Sarah rubbed her temples with her fingers, glancing at the clock. It was already half past five and dark outside. The missing patient and the strange woman didn’t sit right with her. She would go home and get a good night’s sleep and investigate further tomorrow. With a sigh she powered off her computer and began to gather her things.

“Dr. Morris.” Sarah startled at the sound of Renee’s voice. Renee’s head appeared around the corner peering into her office. Sarah fought to keep a pleasant expression on her face.

“Is there something you need?”

“Alyssa is here to speak with you.” Renee read the confusion on Sarah’s face. “Alyssa, the sales rep from Rascentia.”

Sarah lost the battle and her expression changed to one of disappointment as she groaned. “Renee… can you please just tell her…”

“Dr. Morris” chimed a cheerful voice. The sales rep, whose name was apparently Alyssa, smoothly stepped around Renee and into her office. Her shiny black swayed as she walked. The contrast of her perfectly cut pristine blazer and slacks to Sarah’s dirty scrubs further aggravated Sarah. The sales rep’s lips pulled up in a calculated closed-lipped smile. “I just wanted to swing by and thank you and your team for coming out for dinner last night. Did you have any follow up questions about the product?”

Sarah needed to end this as fast as possible, so she could continue with her exodus from the clinic. “I really haven’t had a chance to read any of the literature you left. I planned on contacting you once I did.”

Alyssa continued to look at her expectantly. She wouldn’t be so easily deterred. Sarah schooled her expression back to one of pleasantness. Fine she would ask one question and then make a break for it. “You never mentioned your process for creating the stem cells.”

“The process in which we create the stem cells is proprietary. All you need to do is submit a blood sample from your patient and we use it as a reference to manipulate the DNA of our proprietary stem cells to match that of your patient.”

“If you aren’t creating stem cells from the patient’s blood or tissue, where are you getting the stem cells from?”

“Excellent question.” Alyssa set her designer tote on Sarah’s desk and pulled out a slim rose gold laptop. Alyssa turned to Renee. “I am sure you have more pressing things to do, don’t feel like you need to stay while the doctor and I get into the technicalities.”

Renee’s facial features tightened. She gave Alyssa a pointed stare before turning on her heel, closing the office door behind her.

Alyssa gestured for Sarah to take a seat. Sarah remained standing. “I really need to be leaving soon.”

Alyssa bent over her laptop, typing in her passcode. “Don’t worry, this will only take a moment, I know you must be tired after your excitement last night.”

Sarah’s rising annoyance turned to apprehension. Why did the sales rep know anything about last night? Alyssa made a final click and turned to face Sarah. “You aren’t the first person to have questions, Dr. Morris.” Her lips curled up again this time, revealing a neat line of teeth, two of which were much longer than the rest.