by J. L. Murray
“It's Doctor, actually,” said Viv.
“I beg your pardon?” said Freen, his hands at the buttons on his coat.
“Doctor White,” Viv smiled. “My name is Doctor White.”
“Ms. White,” Freen said, “there are no doctors. We don't need them.”
“Of course,” Viv said. “How silly of me. I'm just used to it.”
“I will check in with you next week,” Freen said. He didn't look back at her as he exited out the door.
“Shit,” Viv said. She made it to her chair before collapsing back. She put her head in her hands but she didn't cry. Why had she said that about being a doctor? It was all going so well before that. “Stupid,” Viv muttered.
She had been at her new job for over a week and had yet to do anything but sign for packages and meet future employees. So far she'd met three and reviewed paperwork on a dozen more. She tried to get out and inspect the construction, but the contractors politely asked her to stay out of the way so she didn't get hurt. As far as she could tell, walls were being knocked down to combine three wards into one massive ward. The machinery being installed consisted of giant shiny vats, each as big as her apartment, and lots of fat, thick glass tubing.
“How does this work?” she asked one of the contractors.
“You know I can't tell you, ma'am. They like to keep things secret.”
Viv peeked out of the blinds in her office to watch a man climb up on top of the nearest vat only to drop the glass tube he'd been holding. It shattered in a cacophony of breaking glass that tinkled long after the thing had struck the ground. This led to two men yelling and gesturing at the poor fellow standing up on top of the vat, scratching his head.
Viv closed the blind. Just as she'd sat down at her desk again to pretend she was busy, there was a brisk knock at the door.
“Come in,” Viv called.
“Ms. White?” said a woman in a delivery uniform.
“Yes?”
“Sign here, please.”
She left Viv with a large box. Viv looked to make sure the blinds were still drawn before taking out the letter opener and sliding it under the tape. Inside the box was another, smaller box surrounded by packing material. Scrawled in black marker were the words “PLEASE DELIVER TO FOREMAN.” Viv lifted the smaller box out, brushing off packing peanuts. With careful movements, she sliced the tape. She could always say she opened it by accident.
Inside the box was the most curious object she had ever seen. She lifted it out carefully. The bottom was a flattened bowl of shining brushed copper, covered by a glass dome. Coming out of the dome in various directions were a mishmash of tiny glass tubes that curled this way and that, within which could be seen wires and metal contraptions. An electrical cord trailed out the back, a tiny hole on the opposite side. Viv found a package of small syringes left inside the box.
“Oh my,” she said. She ran to the door and locked it.
It was the purification vat on a tiny scale. A model of what was being constructed at that moment on her ward. And by the looks of the cord and the inclusion of the syringes, it was a fully working model.
Viv carefully put the contraption back into the smaller box and stared at it. She shoved the big box into the corner. She tapped the letter opener on her desk for a long time, looking at the box. Making a decision, she gathered it under her arm, unlocked the door and walked out of her office.
She waved to a nearby contractor on her way out. He waved back, grinning.
She was not a praying woman, hadn’t been for a long time. But she prayed as she walked through the whitewashed hallway. She took the steps slowly so she would not trip. She held precious cargo. As she opened the door and cold sunlight hit her face, she knew she would be okay. She could get to her car. No one had seen her. No one would question her.
“What's that you've got there, girlie?” said a voice.
Viv froze. She'd forgotten about the guard, Sid. He came out of the guard stand and stopped behind her. She closed her eyes to try to compose herself, to make her face calm, but it wasn't happening. Her heart drummed fast in her chest and she realized with surprise that she wasn't scared.
She was angry.
She spun on Sid, who had an amused look on his fat pink face. Viv had known men like him. Janitors at the university who looked at her with disdain. Store managers who followed her around hoping to catch her stealing. Sid didn't see her. He saw her skin. And she had far too much to deal with to let this continue. It was time for him to see her. Really see her.
She walked toward him, closing the gap so quickly that Sid had to take a step back. She was nearly as tall as him and half as wide. She thrust a finger in his chest.
“Listen to me now, old man,” she seethed. “You think you know me. You think you can talk to me in the familiar way that you do. You think you have the right but you don't. You will treat me with respect, guard. You will call me Ma'am or Doctor or Dr. White. You will never, ever call me girlie or lady or missy or goddamn sweetheart. Is that clear?”
Sid hadn't looked away from her the whole time she had been talking. She felt the anger flare in her eyes.
“You are my subordinate and I am the administrator of the largest ward in the hospital. Do you know what that means, Sid?”
“No,” he said, sounding weak. Unsure. He was afraid.
“It means that if I say I want a guard replaced, he gets replaced. If I want your ass out on the street, I will damn well put it there. How long do you think you can survive with no job, Sid? Do you think getting fired will be a positive change at your age? How long before the Movers pick you up mistaking you for a junkie? HOW LONG?”
“I'm sorry!” he said, raising his hands. “I meant no disrespect!”
Viv remembered using the exact phrase only a half hour before. She hadn't meant it when she'd said it either. She narrowed her eyes.
“Don't speak to me again, Sid,” she said quietly. “Or I will end you. Understood?”
Sid took another step back and opened his mouth, then thought better and closed it, nodding.
“Good,” she said. “I'm going home early. I'm not feeling well.”
Sid nodded again, looking slightly relieved that their conversation had come to an end. She heard him mutter under his breath as she left. She thought she could make out the words crazy bitch, but she ignored him. She held the box tight under her arm and made her way to her car.
She was breaking the law. She stared at the box on the passenger seat. She didn't know how closely the Revs were guarding this secret, but she was fairly positive that she would not only lose her job, but would be arrested and treated just like the junkies they hauled off, strung out on Slack. They would slowly kill her.
Viv took a deep breath. She waited for her heart to stop racing. Then she started the car.
It was worth the risk.
Ten
Sia watched from her window as the figures walked across the snowy yard, two tall and hunched figures who were obviously Revs, and three normal-sized human figures. They’d come from the trees, headed toward the main double doors that led into the hospital. Two of the normals kept trying to hold hands but the hunchers kept pushing them apart. Sia put her hand to the window pane, ignoring the cold that seeped through her skin and immediately into her bones. The moon was bright and gave an eerie blue glow to the snow. One of the figures fell and Sia watched as one of the strange-looking figures advanced quickly but awkwardly. She heard herself cry out as the shot rang out and blood turned the snow black under the glow of the moon. One of the normals began to scream and the glass in the window cracked.
Sia pulled her hand away and realized her knuckles were bleeding. She stared at them, the screaming outside beginning to fade. The window had exploded in a spiderweb of cracks, her blood smeared across the center like a scarlet spider. She crouched in darkness in her new room like a small child and tried to make herself breathe. She had punched the glass. Why? She hugged her hand to her chest, the hot throb
of her knuckles almost comforting, the pain of the split skin like a warm bath compared to the ice she felt inside her chest.
“What have you done?” Evelyn Hauser said, looking at Sia's new room from the doorway, her new cracked window, colored red in the middle and cracked like a bullseye.
“I don't know what happened,” Sia said. “I didn't mean to.”
“Your hand, girl,” said Hauser, closing the door behind her and flicking on the light. She pulled Sia over to her new four-poster bed. The old nurse went to the window to close the drapes, but stopped as her eyes fell on the scene below. Sia came to stand beside her. The other figures were gone, leaving only the dead human lying in the snow. Clouds covered the moon, but the light from her window fell squarely on a splatter of red in the snow.
“It would look like roses if we didn't know what it was,” said Sia.
Hauser looked at her, put a hand on her arm, but Sia ignored her and took a step back.
“You know, you can't just walk into my room any more,” Sia said, sitting gingerly on the side of the bed. “I'm not your patient any longer.”
“But I am still your nurse,” said Hauser, pulling a roll of gauze out of her pocket. She unwound it without meeting Sia's eyes. “I can still help you, Sia.”
“I don't want any more tranquilizers,” said Sia.
“Are you sure?” said the nurse, swabbing Sia's hand with a pad that stung with alcohol. Sia felt the nurse's eyes on her face and forced herself not to flinch. “They can help you. I know you don't sleep.”
“How would you know that?” said Sia, finally looking at the old woman. It seemed she had aged in the past days. Her eyes, once so steely and cold when they looked upon her, had gone so soft and red-rimmed that they looked almost rheumy.
“Sia,” said Hauser, wrapping her knuckles in gauze. “I can be a friend to you.”
Sia laughed. “We are not friends, Evelyn,” she said. “I do not wish everything I say to be reported to someone. I wish to know the truth. Always. And do you know who the only one I trust is?”
Hauser nodded as she taped the gauze. “You're right,” she said, her voice heavy. “You are right to only trust yourself, Sia. But please listen to this, girl,” she said, letting go of her hand and looking at her with a bit of her old toughness. “If you don't trust me, at least promise me that you won't trust them either.”
“That's treason,” said Sia. “I should report you.”
“Fine,” said Hauser. “Report me. Report everyone. But don't trust anyone. Do you understand?”
Sia looked at her for a long time before nodding. The nurse stood up and walked to the door before stopping, her hand on the doorknob.
“It's a shame the floor was slippery in here. They really should get some rugs so you don't injure yourself.”
“Yes,” said Sia. “They really should.”
“Sia?”
“Yes, Evelyn?”
“If you don't see me again, I'd like you to know how sorry I am.” There was something hollow in Hauser's voice that made Sia turn to look at her. She had her back to Sia and was staring right at the door.
“I don’t forgive you, Evelyn,” said Sia.
“Not for you, Sia,” said Hauser. “I'm sorry for...other things.”
“What sorts of things?” said Sia.
Hauser was silent for a long moment. Sia could see her taking breaths deep into her lungs. When she spoke again, her voice cracked.
“If one were to gain access to Z-block, they might be able to help someone.” She twisted the knob, but stopped again. “Or at the very least, put them out of their misery.”
“What?” said Sia. “What's in Z-block?”
But the nurse opened the door and left Sia alone. When she looked out the window an hour later, the body was gone, along with the bloody snow that had looked like roses.
Sia managed to sleep a few hours, after tiring herself out pacing back and forth. She glanced at her new door half a hundred times. It wasn't the painted cold metal of her hospital room. It was carved wood and the only lock on it was on her side. She could just walk out. No one would stop her.
But they claimed they were going to let her go if she survived. No more running.
Sia dozed, still wearing the dark green tailored dress that Mathilde had given her. She had given her a corset too, which Sia had left on the reclining chair near the window. As she dozed she had a short, feverish dream of a figure made of shadows who bent low to kiss her. He came away and vanished like smoke, leaving a rich and metallic taste on her lips, sweeter than honey. She touched her lips and her hand came away red and she found herself uttering a name as she bolted awake: Joshua. Feeling shaken after a dream so vivid, Sia pushed herself off the bed, sweaty and bleary. She made her way to the window and flung open the drapes. Daytime poured in, large flakes of snow floating down from the sky. The fresh snowfall covered the courtyard and looked as pretty and pristine as when she looked upon the grounds with Mathilde.
Sia blinked in the light, frowning as she looked down on what had been a scene of extreme violence the night before. Someone was in the courtyard. A man dressed in black stood motionless in a group of trees. For a moment Sia thought he was part of the foliage, until he raised a hand in a wave. He seemed to be looking right at her. She gave a little gasp, startled. She backed away from the window, hiding behind the drapes. She looked back a moment later and the man was gone. Probably just someone who worked in the hospital, she told herself. A stranger. But there had been something overly familiar in the way he waved to her.
Someone knocked on the door. Sia stared at it for a moment, not comprehending what she was supposed to do. Finally she blinked and stammered, “C-come in.”
A man with a crewcut and wearing blue scrubs wheeled in a wooden cart. Sia stared at him as he stood and smiled at her.
“What's this?” she said.
“Your breakfast,” he said, shrugging. “Can I get you anything else?”
“What?” said Sia.
“Do you want anything?” He was still smiling, but seemed confused by her reaction.
“I was in a hospital,” she said.
“Yes ma'am. You still are.”
“No, I mean, I wasn't –” she looked at him. He seemed to want very much to leave. Sia narrowed her eyes. “Please send someone to replace my window,” she said, surprised how much like Evelyn Hauser she sounded. “I slipped last night and hurt my hand very badly.”
“I'm so sorry,” said the man, seeming genuinely appalled at the news. Sia resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
“And I'd like some rugs in here. These shoes are slippery and I don't think Mathilde wants to hear of me hurting myself again.”
“Of course,” said the man, irritating in his earnestness. His demeanor had changed completely from wanting to leave to wanting to please her. Sia realized he was afraid. He was practically crying. “Can I bring you something for your hand? You poor thing. Of course Madame Briar must be notified immediately. Please tell me what I can do to help you, ma'am. Would you like some ice? Perhaps some painkillers?”
“Jesus, no,” said Sia. “Just fix the window.”
“I'm so sorry,” he said.
“You can go now,” said Sia.
“Oh. Yes. Of course. Are you sure you're all right?”
“Yes,” said Sia with a sigh. “Just go away.” She couldn't trust anyone. She couldn't forget that. Especially not these people. She couldn't let anything slip to this man or anyone like him. She could not afford to show weakness to anyone, especially Mathilde. Sia very much disliked the feeling of her inner thoughts tumbling out of her when she had spoken to the woman. Something about her voice just made her secrets spill over.
Her breakfast was a croissant, warm and buttery, good hot coffee and some cantaloupe. She barely nibbled at it, so baffled was she by the sudden change in her circumstances. The day before she'd been strapped to a bed, her only possession a hospital gown. Today she wore a silk slip and slept
on velvet. She had agreed to help Mathilde with Joshua Flynn, but she wasn't exactly sure what she was supposed to do. She didn't see how she could be of any use. Even if they'd once met, even if they knew each other well, surely she wasn't the right person for a job. He was a monster, if Mathilde could be believed. Sia snorted. She would never trust Mathilde in a million years, but was she telling the truth about Joshua?
Sia froze in her pacing. She had thought of Joshua Flynn purely by his first name. It was familiar, as though she'd used it dozens of times. Joshua. Why couldn't she remember?
Mid-morning, an elderly worker in dirty jeans and a sweat-stained blue shirt came to replace Sia's window. He smiled kindly at her.
“You may want to go somewhere else while I do this, ma'am. It's going to get pretty loud. And it's cold as hell out there. Been out yet today? We're supposed to get some kind of blizzard. Read it in the paper.”
“No,” said Sia. “I haven't been out.” She glanced toward the window and blinked at the brightness of the snow.
Two other men came in, carrying a large cardboard flat; the new window, Sia assumed. She sidestepped to get out of their way. They were much younger than the old man, and one dimpled a smile at her. She blinked at him and looked at the old man again. She glanced toward the open door.
“It's okay,” the old man said gently. “We won't bother your things, I promise.”
Sia nodded, taking a step toward the door. She poked her head out into the hall and looked around. It was a nicer-looking part of the hospital, though she supposed it was part of the same ward. The walls were dark with carved wood accents. A small table held a vase of fresh flowers. Sia looked back at the men, who watched her curiously.
“Boys, let's get to work,” said the old man. “So we can be out of the lady's hair.”
Sia took a shaky step out of the door, her heel sliding a little on a bit of melted snow one of the workers had tracked in. She caught herself. No one came rushing down the hall to shoot her full of sedatives or to chain her down. She carefully moved her other foot out of the room. She was now completely in the hall. She looked back into her room. The old man looked up from the electric saw that he was taking out of its case, and smiled sadly at her.