by J. L. Murray
Crouching, Mike found a small tray with a tall glass of water and meat that had grown cold and hard. Mike drank the water and the throbbing in his head began to subside.
There had been two Revs. Four guards waited outside the room, an office with a plush carpet and a sign on the desk that said Mathilde Briar. Mike was handcuffed, his hands painfully stretched behind him. These Revs were dressed well, in suits and soft, high necked coats that went down to their knees. They were hairless and dabbed at their chins with handkerchiefs when the saliva dripped down their teeth. But their eyes showed that, weak though they might be, they were cruel. They glared at Mike through narrow red slits.
The tallest one uncuffed Mike wordlessly. When the other one spoke, Mike knew it wasn’t going to be pretty.
“Tell us what you know about Joshua Flynn,” he rasped.
In the end, Mike told them everything he knew. But only after they took all of the fingers from his right hand with a pair of pruning shears. He told them what Joshua had asked him to do with the underground newspaper, and how he asked him to save Sia.
He didn't say a word about Viv or Dez. They didn’t ask. They didn’t even mention the Rev killed in the courtyard. It was as if they had no concern beyond their immediate orders: Find Joshua Flynn. Mike grew hot with shame as he remembered what he had finally told them, and he bent over and retched on the floor, warm liquid splashing onto his feet. He looked at his bandaged hand again.
You’ll never type another word, the tall Rev had said. But we’ll leave your other hand alone. It’ll get lonely where you’re going and you need someone to keep you company.
Mike spat at him for that but the Revs only laughed. They pushed a button and a nurse came in with a syringe.
Goodbye forever, Mr. Novak, said the smaller Rev. No one will ever hear from you again. And no one will remember you.
The nurse looked about to cry as she put the needle in his arm and pressed the plunger.
Mike walked across the room toward a more subtle glow. Now that his eyes adjusted to the dim light, Mike could see it. He looked out a window riddled with wires inside the glass, overlooking the grounds. A blizzard was raging outside, the fat, wet flakes coming fast and heavy. Snow piled along the panes and frosted the glass. He was still in the hospital. He had never left.
“Mr. Novak,” said an exasperated male voice. “Have you made a mess in there?”
“Hello?” said Mike, walking toward the door. A face was blocking the light.
“You’re just going to have to smell that all night, Novak,” said the man. “I’m not cleaning it up.”
“Please,” said Mike, holding his bad hand by the wrist so he didn’t jostle it. “Please, what is this? Why am I in here?”
“I think you know that,” said the man. Mike saw he was middle aged, maybe 45, with a few days beard growth on his face. He had bloodshot eyes and dirty teeth. And when he spoke again, Mike could smell booze on his breath. “You’re here for the long haul, Novak, so you might as well settle down.”
“My hand,” said Mike. “It hurts. Please…”
“Sorry, man,” he said. “You shouldn’t have made them so mad. You shouldn’t have tried to steal their beta. There’s nothing I’m allowed to give you. You’ll just have to wait until tomorrow morning. Someone will come and dose you up. You’re considered mentally unstable.”
“Beta?” said Mike. “What’s a beta?”
“You know, the scary Asian chick. The one who walks around like she owns the place. She won’t be walking anywhere for a while though. She’s scheduled tonight, I heard some of them talking.” He lifted a small bottle out of his pocket and took a swig, looking apologetic. “They’ll know if I give you some. They always know.”
Mike realized the man was drunk. He wouldn’t tell him any of this otherwise.
“Scheduled what?” said Mike.
“They think she knows…you know. The guy. The one they’re afraid of.”
“Joshua Flynn,” said Mike.
He pointed at Mike. “That’s the one. They want her to kill him.”
“She’ll never kill him,” said Mike.
“She might,” said the man. “She’s going to forget anything she likes. She’s not going to be so pretty for long. She’s going to look just like them.”
“They’re going to make her a Rev?” said Mike. “How?”
The man shrugged and took another swig. “Some sciencey shit.”
“They’re going to kill her,” said Mike, remembering Sia’s perfect face, her dark eyes, her red lips. “This is going to end so badly for them.”
If Sia was killed, Flynn was going to kill them all. He seemed to be toying with them before. There was derision and disgust there, but they only mattered to him because of what they used to be. They had destroyed his race, but as long as he had Sia, he seemed to care little for them, one way or another. He seemed to be killing them for sport, the fun of it. A man like that, a monster like that, what would he do when he was truly enraged?
“She might not die,” said the man. He was wearing scrubs, stained down the front. He shook the empty bottle. “She might just be like them.”
“I don’t think you understand,” said Mike. “If she dies, it’s going to get a whole lot worse.”
“What can we do?” he said, rubbing his eyes and stumbling a little. “You’re stuck in there with five fingers left. I’m out here, drunk off my ass. We’re not saving anyone tonight, buddy.”
“You could let me out,” said Mike.
He heard the guard laughing all the way down the hall.
Twenty-Seven
Viv spent the day overseeing the final test runs of the central purification pump. The blood came in on refrigerated trucks around noon and everyone watched it traveling through glass tubes the size of tree trunks. The first batch was taken away to be put into a second machine in the next room. A new employee named Nancy was in charge of making sure there were empty bags to divvy the blood into and the machine did the rest. A screech of hydraulics, a liquidy splutter, and Nancy packed the bags away onto trays, dozens at a time. They didn’t bother with blood typing, because it wasn’t for transfusions. For that matter, it wasn't even for humans.
The blood was strictly for the Revs.
Mr. Freen came in around three o’clock, sending a shiver of gasps through Viv’s employees. He smiled unpleasantly at them and went directly to Viv. A female Rev followed him in a minute later. She looked sickly even for a Rev. She was small and thin, and the tips of her fingers were blue.
“Ms. White, this is Miss Krale. She will be testing the blood batches.”
Miss Krale blinked at Viv like some sort of alien.
“Every batch?” said Viv. “This is going to hold up production.”
“Nonsense,” said Mr. Freen. “We must ascertain that it is safe.”
“I assure you that we use rigorous testing procedures,” said Viv. “I don’t know what sort of ship you think I run here, but if you think I’m not capable…”
“It’s out of my hands,” he said, almost apologetically. He leaned close to her and she fought the urge to back away. “The president is coming tonight, my dear. He requires the strictest safety measures. I would never think to question your expertise.”
“I see,” said Viv, forming her face into a smile. “Of course. We’ll all do the best we can to ensure the utmost purity of the batches.” She fingered the blade in her pocket and set her face into a fixed smile.
Mr. Freen followed Viv into the bagging room, Miss Krale following behind wordlessly, a plastic tube dangling out of her long sleeves. As they stood in front of the machine, she moved as if robotically. She picked up a bag of blood and held it up to the light. Then, with slick, fast movements she attached her IV tube to the bag and tilted the bag upside down. Blood traveled down the length of the tube and disappeared under her shirt. Krale kinked the tube, and unscrewing her IV, she replaced the cap on the bag of blood. She turned and looked at Viv with her big
, pale eyes.
“This batch is acceptable,” she said. “No ill effects.”
Mr. Freen smiled and watched Miss Krale replace the blood bag on the tray, which Linda picked up and carried to the cooler down the hall. Viv closed her eyes momentarily. How the hell was she going to do this with Miss Krale and Linda standing by?
Viv looked up at the small circular door which opened to allow for disinfecting and removing obstructions. All she had to do was open that door and bleed into it. The thought made her shudder for some reason.
“Is everything all right, Ms. White?” said Mr. Freen. “Are you feeling unwell?” He cringed away from her as he said the words.
Viv smiled. “I’m fine, sir. Just tired.”
“Please see that you keep your wits about you. You are expected in the V-wing at precisely six o’clock.”
“Me?” said Viv. “Why?”
“To bring the blood personally,” said Mr. Freen. “It was requested by President Conrad himself. I understand he appointed you to this job.”
“Yes, the President has granted me a great honor,” said Viv.
“You will bring the last batch of blood of the day, so it’s as fresh as possible,” said Mr. Freen. “We will provide a cart for you.”
“V-wing, as in Vampire Wing?” said Viv. “That’s clever.”
“Isn’t it?” said Mr. Freen. “I got a good chuckle out of it.”
He turned then and walked out. Viv looked at Miss Krale and smiled. Krale remained expressionless. Viv shrugged at Linda, who watched, worried, as Viv left the room. She was leaving Linda alone with Krale, but she had no choice. She had a plant to run. And she had to figure out how to get rid of them both.
Viv watched as the members of her team performed their allotted tasks flawlessly. Everyone was doing exactly what they were supposed to do. She had to do this, she had no more options. She would not live like this any longer. And she made a promise to Mike.
When she thought of Mike, her feelings were confused and muddled. He was there to comfort her when she needed someone most, after she was forced from her home. She lost her entire family. She was a mess and Mike helped her put herself together. Their relationship deepened the night he told her about his wife's death. They had both lost so much, and yet they had fit together as if it was meant to be. When Mike disappeared, Viv thought he was dead. And then he showed up again exactly when she most needed his help. He helped her dump Tom’s body without even a second thought. And she felt strange whenever he looked at her. His eyes seemed to linger on her face. Mike had been her knight once. But what about now?
Viv blinked back tears. She wasn’t going to live very much longer. She was going to attempt to kill Conrad, the political leader of the entire world. The monster who owned everyone. The other Revs wouldn’t let her live after that. And Mike? He was neck deep in his own shit. If they both survived to the next morning, it would be a miracle. It did no good to pine about him when it would never come to anything.
Viv paced for a moment, pretending to be monitoring the men and women running the plant. There was only one person she could count on in this place, and that person was completely batshit crazy. She looked at her watch. Nearly 3:30. She didn’t have time to think. Viv walked out the door and when she got out of sight of the plant workers, she began to run.
She knew she would find Evelyn in K-block.
When she arrived at the door, the first door she had entered on her first day, she found it wide open. Stepping through, her heels clicking, Viv was struck by the silence of the ward. There was no beeping of machines, no whir or hiss of blood pressure machines, no murmuring of doctors and nurses, no squeak of sneakers on the tile floor. Viv looked around. There was no one here. No patients, no one.
Viv found Evelyn in the room where Viv had spoken to Sia. She remembered the poor girl's crying, the sound that had lured Viv in. She had never seen anyone so sad as Sia. As Viv approached Evelyn, with her back to the door, she stopped, the memory of Sia suddenly like a kick in the guts. Viv promised herself she would save Sia. But she had to find out if Hunter was here. And if he was alive.
Evelyn sat on the bed, hugging the pillow to her stomach.
“Are you quite all right, Dr. White?” said Evelyn without turning.
“I was just…remembering,” said Viv.
“That’s all I do,” said Evelyn. “I did terrible things to her. By the book. Things that we outlawed for a reason. But that was before.”
“Before the Annex,” said Viv.
“Yes,” Evelyn said bitterly.
“I need your help.”
Evelyn set the pillow down gently, patting it as she stood. She turned and looked at Viv.
“There’s a Rev,” said Viv. “A blood tester, who runs the blood through her own body. I don’t know how to get rid of her long enough to access the blood.”
“You’re the administrator,” said Evelyn. “You can do as you please.”
“You and I both know that’s not true,” said Viv. “No one is free.”
“Tell me what you need me to do,” said Evelyn, suddenly sounding impossibly tired. The old woman closed her eyes.
“I’m expected to take blood to the party at six o’clock,” said Viv. “The last batch of the day. Everyone will go home after that. If you can get everyone out around a quarter till, that should be enough time…”
“Enough time to bleed?” said Evelyn.
“Yes, I suppose,” said Viv, feeling weak at the prospect.
“Have you given any thought as to how you are going to bleed a copious amount and then pretend that nothing has happened?”
“Well no,” said Viv. “I guess I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
Evelyn eyed the pocket where Viv had slipped the boxcutter.
“So you were just going to slice yourself open, were you?” said Evelyn. “Maybe pass out on the floor and then they’d find your lifeless body in the morning?”
“I don’t have any experience at espionage,” Viv snapped. “I suppose you have a better idea.”
“I do,” said Evelyn. “It's time for your blood day, Dr. White. The most important blood day you’ve ever had.”
“What?” said Viv. “No, I don’t go in until…” Viv saw the old woman raise an eyebrow. Evelyn walked out of the room and came back wheeling a cart.
“How big are your pockets, Dr. White?” said Evelyn. She held up the tray of vials from her cart. “Big enough, I suppose,” said Viv, pulling the boxcutter out of her pocket and stuffing her hands in. “So long as I don’t try any gymnastics.”
“A pint will do, I think,” said Evelyn. “Just a taste will corrupt them.”
“Are you sure about that?” said Viv. “About any of this, I mean. The blood, it seems too easy.”
“Occam’s Razor, doctor.”
“Yes, but, blood can’t be the answer to killing them,” said Viv. “It’s too easy. Can they really be so weak?”
Evelyn guided Viv back until she sat down on the bed, then proceeded to wipe her arm with an alcohol swab. Viv winced. She’d given blood so many times she was constantly sore and flinched when she bent her arms. The thought of a needle going in sent shivers down her spine every week. But this was important.
“I’ve seen the survivors,” said Evelyn. “And surviving is worse, believe me.”
“Okay,” said Viv, turning her head away. “Go ahead. Do it.”
“Try not to faint,” said Evelyn, wrapping the standard blue tourniquet around her upper arm with a sound like a rubber glove. “You already look half a ghost.”
Viv thought she had never heard anything more true. She watched Evelyn slide the needle into her vein, then pop a vial into the vacutainer. Blood immediately filled the vial and Evelyn replaced it with an empty one, passing the full vial to Viv. She held it up, looking at the dark fluid inside. So much fuss for such a small thing. Blood. And to think that even a tiny vial like this could poison them. Viv shook her head as she slipped it into her pocke
t.
As she returned to the plant, the vials clinked softly in her pockets. Viv was all too aware of the bulge in her pants, though no one else seemed to notice. If the glass broke or a lid popped off, though, she was sunk. She walked gingerly back and forth, being careful to slip off to her office to drink water so she didn’t pass out. She found a packet of crackers in her desk drawer, fingering the bottle of booze before rejecting it, walking carefully back into the plant. She felt lightheaded, with shadows around her vision, as if she were treading at the cusp of unconsciousness. Once she had to go into her office and slap herself to stay awake. She couldn’t fail. She couldn’t screw this up by passing out. She had to be Dr. White the successful doctor tonight. Not Viv White, the broken drunk. Tonight, she wasn’t broken. She was an instrument. She was the scalpel that would carve the cancer out of this city. It would be up to others for the rest. But for tonight, it was all up to Viv.
Straightening, she looked at her watch. 5:37. She walked out into the plant with her head in the air. People in the plant itself were starting to pack up their things. They were finished for the day. The blood was being filtered seven times over, Viv could watch its progress through the glass tubes. A team would come in tonight to clean the machines, so people were free to go, but they milled about, waiting.
“If you are not needed right now,” Viv called, “you are dismissed. Great job, everyone. See you tomorrow.”
Among cheerful chatter, several of the workers found their coats and walked out, nodding and waving to her. She made her mouth smile. When the blood was filtered, it was sucked through a transparent tube half the size of a telephone pole to the bagging room. Viv looked at her watch. 5:44. Come on, Evelyn. If Linda started bagging the blood, it would be too late. The blood would be inaccessible at that point. The machine would lock her out and she wouldn’t be able to do what needed to be done.
“Excuse me, all human workers,” boomed a woman’s voice. Everyone who hadn’t left already turned. Linda poked her head out of the room. Evelyn stood on the plant floor with a surgical mask on her face. Even Frake turned to listen.