Chapter 17

The nurse smiled and handed Daniel a clipboard.

“Just sign here.”

He frowned. “I’m here for a sprained wrist.”

The smile didn’t move.

“Of course you are.”

He glanced around the waiting room. Every man there sat perfectly still, staring at their phones with pale faces. No one spoke.

“Wrong patient,” Daniel said, standing up.

The receptionist looked up from her computer.

“No, Mr. Hayes. Room Three is ready.”

“I think there’s been a mistake.”

She tilted her head.

“That’s what all of you say.”

A man shuffled out of the hallway wearing a hospital gown. His eyes were red from crying.

As he passed Daniel, he gripped his shoulder.

“You still think they’re talking about your wrist?” he whispered.

Before Daniel could answer, an orderly opened the door to Room Three.

Inside, shelves lined the walls.

Hundreds of glass jars sat neatly arranged.

Each had a handwritten label.

A man’s name.

A date.

Something pale floating inside.

The orderly checked Daniel’s chart.

“Ah,” he said. “You came early. That’s rare.”

Daniel stumbled backward.

“What is this?”

The orderly frowned.

“You men never read the paperwork.”

He picked up a jar from the shelf and held it to the light.

“The women do.”

Daniel’s wrist suddenly stopped hurting.

Then he remembered something strange.

The consent form he’d signed at the front desk.

Without reading it.

At the bottom, above his signature, was a sentence he had laughed off as hospital nonsense.

ALL DONATIONS ARE NON-REFUNDABLE.

From somewhere deeper in the hallway came the sound of a drill starting up.

And every man in the waiting room looked up at once.