Chapter 2 - The Queens Pharmacy
I did not survive the cutthroat corporate world of New York by being a helpless victim.
I threw the heavy hospital tray directly at David’s face before he could pull the trigger.
The metal edge struck him in the jaw, sending him crashing into the medical monitors.
I grabbed his dropped weapon, stepped over his unconscious body, and walked out the fire exit.
I stole a running delivery van from the hospital loading dock and drove straight across the bridge to Queens.
The pharmacy was a rundown storefront wedged between a pawn shop and a liquor store.
I walked inside and placed a stack of hundred-dollar bills on the glass counter.
I showed the pharmacist a screenshot of the little girl in the yellow dress.
The old man trembled as he looked at the money and then at my bruised face.
He admitted that the girl came in every month to pick up medicine for a severe heart condition.
I asked him for her mother's name, assuming the mother was the one dying.
The pharmacist shook his head and pushed the money back toward me.
He told me the medicine was not for the mother at all.
It was a highly experimental pediatric dosage meant for the little girl.
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He then handed me a prescription slip, and my blood turned entirely to ice.
The medication was the exact same rare chemical compound I took for my own genetic heart defect.
