Her gruesome face, scrunched with tears, choked out, “I don’t know what I did!”
Their mother held her and waved a hand to shoo away Zack. “Is there anything I can . . .”
“Close the door,” Mrs. Cannon said, terse.
Her motherly instincts were heightened. She quarantined the room, forbade outside contact. It turns out this was Macy’s “flu,” which I’d been too distracted by my own problems to think much of. Zack waited anxiously in his room . . . surely this new pill would wear off after a few hours, like the others did. But he hadn’t counted on the psychology of it. He didn’t know as I did that the pills affected guilt. So as Macy continued to feel guilty for her imaginary crimes, her appearance remained the same. Worsened even.
Zack called his associate and explained the situation. “Don’t worry,” the friend said. “That happens sometimes. It’s a weird side effect. Feed her the regular pills for a couple days and she should be fine.”
So he tried. He made her favorite chocolate milkshake, laced with the life-saving drug. But his mother’s quarantine was airtight, specifically as it related to Zack. “Macy says she doesn’t know what caused this, but I do. I see how the two of you interact. Your sibling squabbles are the root of all of this,” she said to Zack. “The way you two talk to each other. This bickering, it’s childish, and now that you’re adults, clearly Great Spirit disapproves.”
“Then let me in there to patch things up, please.” He held out the milkshake.
“It’s too risky right now,” his mother said. “One more Punishment could send her over the edge. My daughter’s already an Outcast, I couldn’t bear it if . . .” She couldn’t say the words.
“Then please just give her this.” He practically shoved the shake at her.
“All that sugar is the last thing she needs right now.”
He tried desperately to sneak the pill into something else, but Macy had stopped being able to swallow. His mother called a doctor, hoping to put her on IV fluids at home. She couldn’t bear to risk the embarrassment to the family if Macy was seen by the outside world. But when the doctor saw Macy’s condition, he insisted she be put on twenty-four-hour care at a hospital. The Cannons gave an order to hospital staff—Zack was not permitted to see her under any circumstances. He tried valiantly, even tried to push his way through the orderlies, before he was escorted out by security.
Furious and terrified, he called his friend again. “You have to do something. You can’t just let my sister die.”
“We’ll see what we can do,” the man said. “I’ve passed it up the chain. I should have a response soon.”
Another day passed, with no word, no help. Which was when Zack thought back on my mysterious midnight phone call and figured out who the real culprit was. And he came to me.
“You’re the only one left who can help her,” he said.
I didn’t know if it was a trick. And after coming so close to being free, being safe, I didn’t want to involve myself in anything else that might incriminate me. But I’d also caused the deaths of two people that day. And even though I no longer lived in a world where murderers were struck down by Great Spirit, even though I knew I had a pill I could take that would protect me and make me feel better . . . no pill could suppress my conscience completely. There was no pill that would ever make me a person who could sit back and let her best friend die.
“What do I have to do?” I asked.
Chapter 3
I waited until I heard my father snoring before I snuck Zack back downstairs.
“I’ll have you home before your father wakes up, I promise.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” I said.
We drove to the hospital. It was odd . . . a couple of weeks ago I would have been thrilled to be riding in Zack’s car. But now the sight of him made me sick. I’d seen him kill another human being. No matter what protection he might have promised me, this Zack, the murderer, was a stranger. I had to be prepared for anything once we saved Macy.
If we did. Zack told me her condition wasn’t good. The one doctor he’d been able to corner had confided that Macy might not make it through the night. We had precious little time to get that pill in her system.
We arrived at the hospital around 2 a.m., and only one nurse was on duty at the desk. Zack hung back as I approached her—he’d already antagonized the hospital staff enough, associating with him could only hurt my case. “I’d like to see Macy Cannon. What room is she in?”
“I’m sorry,” the nurse said, “visiting hours are over for non–family members.”
“But I’m family!” I said. My face must have shown a trace of Punishment, guilt at the lie, despite myself, because the nurse was not swayed. I tried again. “I came all this way to see her, please, just five minutes.”
“I’m sorry, it’s hospital policy.”
I began to cry. I think in my head they were supposed to be manipulative tears, like when you used to see women cry in movies to get what they wanted, but after everything, after the prophet, the Ramseys, Jude, Ciaran . . . one more tiny obstacle was unbearable to me. As my tears poured out, the nurse was sympathetic. “You can see her tomorrow,10 a.m.”
“What if she doesn’t live until then?”
“There’s no reason to think that.”
“She’s dying!” I said, losing the ability to control my voice. “The doctor said she might not make it through the night.”
She was used to emotional people. “I understand that you’re upset. But as long as you remain calm, you’ll be allowed to see her tomorrow.”
“I’ll only be five minutes. Please.” She was unconvinced. “My father is the cleric at the Tutelo Valley Worship Center. I’ve been praying over sick people all my life. I know I can help, I know I can save her.”
“You can pray out here.”
“It’s not the same. Prayers are more powerful when you can be with the person you’re praying for. You must know that, you must have seen that. Please just let me go in and see my friend for five minutes. If she dies tonight, I’ll never forgive myself.”
I saw the woman’s face twinge—she felt a tiny bit of guilt. But guilt she couldn’t resolve. She didn’t know if disobeying the rules was worse than letting a young girl remain in distress. “Let me go talk to someone,” she said.
A moment later, she returned with an older gentleman, her supervisor. “I’m sorry,” he began, “but the rules say . . .”
I interrupted, “Really? You’re going to let my best friend die because you’re worried Great Spirit will Punish you for violating protocol?”
Their faces twinged even further. The nurse looked to the man. He sighed. “Let me talk to someone higher up.”
I realized they’d just keep passing the buck to avoid taking responsibility. I could cry at these people all night, and I still wouldn’t get to see Macy for another twelve hours. I returned to Zack. “Do you think she’ll survive till the morning?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did that doctor give you any odds?”
“No, I told you everything he said.” To see the normally stoic Zack this upset concerned me. “My parents are in there with her now. I could call them . . .”
“No,” I said. “What if they forbid me to come in, like you? Then I won’t even be able to see her tomorrow.” I thought of something. “Give me the other half of that pill.”
“What?”
“The bad pill. Just give it to me.”
“It won’t affect you, will it?” Meaning, he assumed I was taking his pills still. Was this his test? Maybe Macy wasn’t in the hospital . . . maybe he just wanted to know if I’d taken the pills myself. I thought about it—I’d been Punished plenty since I took my last pill. Whatever was left in my system would be minuscule, trace amounts . . . Not knowing much about pharmacological half-lives, I had to take the risk. I shook my head. “It’ll work. Give it to me.” I hoped I was right, and I wasn’t about to incriminate myself for no goo
d reason. He handed it to me. I swallowed. And waited.
Chapter 4
As Zack had suggested, this pill worked much more slowly than the ones I’d stolen from him. I sat next to him, nearly falling asleep. Another hospital administrator did in fact come out and tell me I couldn’t see Macy. I nodded, unsurprised, and didn’t put up a fight.
After an hour, I started to worry. Maybe the upper drug was still in my system.
“How long did it take Macy to be Punished?”
“About this long,” Zack said. But he didn’t accuse me of lying. He was kind, kinder than I expected. “I can take you home. We can come back in the morning.”
I shook my head. I was determined that this would work. “I’ll stay here until they let me in.”
I read a magazine, some trash about how to make your godliness shine through with the right eye shadow. After reading it six times and absorbing it zero, I glanced back over at Zack. His eyes were closed. He was snoring lightly. I could get away, if I wanted to. Take Zack’s car. Even without Jude, the idea of going on the run sounded appealing. It wasn’t such a bad plan, really. It would solve so many problems for so many people.
Except Macy. I had to save Macy.
My own eyelids were growing heavy. Maybe if I closed them for just a second . . .
I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I remember, I was lying with my head on Zack’s shoulder. I jerked up, clutching my throat. An all-too-familiar feeling. My movement woke Zack—he took one look at me and took my hand.
“Can you stand?” I tried to, but immediately fell. “Hold on to me,” he said. He put my hands around his waist, his arms around mine, and he supported me over to the nurse’s station. The nurse gasped as she looked at me.
“This girl doesn’t look so good,” Zack said, a note of concern in his voice. He was a good actor.
“How long has she been like this?”
“I don’t know. I just woke up and saw her.”
“Does she have private insurance?”
“I don’t know. Why would she need private insurance?”
“Punishment isn’t covered by the national plan. Without private insurance, we can only take her in for one night and give her some fluids, then we have to discharge her.”
“That’s fine,” Zack said, relieved.
“Tell her to have a seat. We’ll be right with her.” The way she spoke—so unfeeling, so derogatory. The way I’d always felt about Outcasts, before I knew what they really were.
Zack placed me in a seat near the window. He whispered in my ear, “Room 455.” I nodded. He placed two pills in my hand, familiar and yellow. Both “uppers.” I nodded again, plan in motion.
A few minutes later, a nurse wheeled out a stretcher, and an orderly helped her lift me onto it. She slipped an ID bracelet onto my wrist and wheeled me into the emergency room.
The crowded ward whizzed past me. Coughing and moaning, whirring machines steadily keeping people alive. “Keep your head down, sweetheart. We’re taking you to a special place.”
The Outcast Ward. I’d heard of it. That was what they always said about Jude, after he “died”—he was so sick, they didn’t even take him to the Outcast Ward. Just straight to the morgue. Though in reality I guess he’d gone to neither. I wondered where that story had come from, which of Dawn’s associates had spread it as a cover.
The nurse loaded me into the elevator and pushed the fourth-floor button. She was taking me straight to Macy. As we exited, the view was jarring. I wasn’t sure where room 455 could possibly be . . . all I saw were rows and rows of beds. Breathing tubes and feeding tubes and the cacophonous sound of labored breathing. Hundreds of bodies stretching from one wall to the other. The nurse wheeled me through . . . I didn’t know where there could possibly be an empty bed, but she found one. She and another nurse loaded me onto it. “The doctor will be right with you.”
I fingered the upper pill in my pocket. Could I take it without being seen? But then the doctor approached, and I had no choice but to lie back. “How are you feeling?” he asked, rote.
“Okay,” I said, voice hoarse.
“We’re going to put you on some fluids. That should help.”
“I’m feeling a little better,” I said.
“Hopefully you’ll be all better tomorrow morning. A nurse will be right back to get you those fluids.”
He walked off. I grabbed for the pill again, but the nurse was on her way back with a long, thick needle. She took my arm. “This will hurt a little. Blood vessels constrict during Punishment, so it’s gonna take me a minute to find a good vein, okay?”
After fifteen minutes of poking torture, she got the needle into my vein and walked away. I was left alone in a sea of bodies, Outcasts dying all around me. But I didn’t have time to worry about them. I needed to find Macy. I looked around . . . the number on my bed said 217. A quick glance around told me that the numbers went higher behind me. I saw the nurses were occupied, talking at their posts many beds away. I cringed as I slipped the IV needle out and put pressure on my arm to stop the bleeding.
I stepped out of bed and dropped to the floor. I had plenty of strength to crawl, and I thought my Outcast disguise might be helpful.
The numbers on the beds grew higher, but as I reached the wall, I began to despair. The beds stopped in the three hundreds. What was I supposed to do now?
There must be some private area, I thought. Maybe somewhere for people with money? I imagined people like Macy’s family would pay to keep their loved ones hidden away during a time like this. I saw a hallway to my right and headed for it.
I was certain someone would see me, this Outcast out of place, but no one noticed. Maybe no one cared. This hallway was full of rooms in the four hundreds, and as I approached 455, I saw Macy’s parents sleeping inside, curled up on uncomfortable hospital chairs. Keeping a vigil next to their dying daughter. I’d made it!
I reached up and turned the door handle as quietly as possible. The Cannons remained sound asleep. I inched toward the bed, a pill in my hand. Macy was hooked up to more equipment than the Outcasts I’d seen outside. Something was making her heart beat for her. She really was dying. But I just had to get that pill under her tongue, and that would save her.
It was harder than it seemed. Crawling was easy enough, but in my weakened state, her bed was a formidable obstacle. I grabbed onto the side of it, pulled myself up. So close to my goal. But then—SMACK—I hit a button, which sent the bed electronically adjusting down.
The movement woke my sleeping friend, who cried out. Her parents stirred, startled by the sound. Seeing me in the room, some strange Outcast woman, they started screaming.
I didn’t give up. I had to get that pill to Macy, no matter what might happen to me. I desperately reached for her mouth, but her father roughly pulled me away. I had no strength to fight him off. “Stay away from her!” I collapsed on the floor, my limbs bruising on the linoleum.
“Doctor! Someone!” Macy’s mother ran out into the hallway, screaming, “There’s an Outcast in our daughter’s room!”
I had no choice. I put the pill in my own mouth and crawled out into the hallway. I’d done nothing to save Macy, and now I was trapped.
Chapter 5
I pulled open a closet door and hid. I could hear people outside.
“What did this person look like?”
“Like an Outcast!”
“Male or female? Height? Build? Clothing?”
“I don’t remember! It was crawling on the ground attacking my daughter. Isn’t there any security here?”
The voices disappeared. I could feel my strength returning. I had to get back down to the waiting room. If they hadn’t recognized me, I could blend in, as long as the Cannons didn’t remember my generic T-shirt and jeans. I snuck a peek outside—I saw a few people patrolling the halls. I felt my face—I had to hope I looked different enough to escape.
I slipped out, working my way through the giant room of Outcasts
, my head down, arms crossed to cover my hospital intake bracelet. A few nurses glanced my way, but no one stopped me—none of them recognized me. I knew I had to get out quickly, but I still had one extra pill in my pocket, and I didn’t want a nurse to catch me with it. I saw a young girl, a teenager, struggling to breathe in a bed up ahead. As I passed, I quickly slipped the pill between her lips. She looked at me, confused, terrified, and I didn’t wait to see the results. I reached the elevator, pushed the button, hoping to avoid catching the Cannons’ eyes.
The elevator came, and I stepped inside . . . along with the doctor who’d examined me earlier. He gave me a cursory nod, then looked down at his clipboard.
“You here visiting family?”
“Mmm-hmm.” I was afraid he’d recognize my voice.
“Sorry to hear that,” he said. “Rough night. Outcast Ward is packed.”
“Mmm.” His eyes flicked up from his clipboard, and he gave me a long look. Working out who I was.
The elevator dinged and opened. I held my breath as he stepped out. He watched me as I paused, waiting for him to walk away. “Looking for the exit?” he asked. I nodded. “You should go out that way,” he said helpfully. I dutifully followed his advice, which took me down a long hall toward an exit sign. When I opened it, I breathed in cool, nighttime air. Freedom.
I circled back around the building. I needed to find Zack and get out of there. When I arrived in the waiting room, he was sitting near where I’d left him.
“Zack,” I hissed. “We have to go.”
He shook his head and shoved his sweatshirt at me. I barely had time to put it on, disguising my outfit, before I heard, “Grace?” Mrs. Cannon was right behind me. I pulled the sleeve of the sweatshirt over my intake bracelet and hugged her.
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