Learning to Dance

aren’t you sure?
The door opened. A woman in a white G.L.E.E. lab coat
stood there, a tall woman with kind eyes and long, reddish
hair.
“Dr. T,” said the nurse, looking relieved. “The patient is
awake.”
Obviously, thought Taz, but she refrained from saying it.
Too much work.
The doctor nodded, and the nurse left, after giving Taz
what was likely meant to be a reassuring squeeze. The
doctor approached, and as she did, Taz realized that she was
several months pregnant, her belly straining against the
buttons of her uniform. There was a sadness deep in her
eyes.
“Tell me - about Up,” Taz managed, before any more
silly questions or platitudes could be exchanged.
The doctor looked at her searchingly before pulling a
chair up to the bed and taking a seat. “They tell me you
witnessed what happened to him?”
A spinning blade, a spray of blood, a scream she had
never wanted to hear - “Yes,” she said.
“Then you know that the saw cut him in half.” The
doctor was nothing if not blunt. Taz held her gaze. “No one
should have survived that. In fact, it was only part of him
that did – the second drop pod’s team was only able to
recover the left side of his body.”
Taz suddenly felt violently nauseated. The doctor handed
her a pink, plastic, kidney bean-shaped tray. She gripped it
tightly.
“He was dead, Lieutenant. I knew that the moment I saw
what was left of him. And I think you must have known that
too.”
Taz forced the nausea back down. “But then how-”
“Dr. Claw,” and the doctor spat the name like its taste