The ARC 03: Fractured

by Alexandra Moody

  ‘Why what?’ he replies.

  There are many ‘whys,’ I want answered, but only one I should utter aloud. ‘The procedure. Why did I have to have it?’

  ‘To make you better,’ he responds, the tone of his voice changing as he utters the word, ‘better.’ He almost caresses the word. ‘You should get some rest.’ He easily moves out of my grasp, leaving me alone with the nurse.

  My heart sinks as she wheels me from the room and my world continues to stay blurry. It’s even more intimidating once we’re in the corridor and the space moves by me in a bright, white blur.

  My focus doesn’t linger on my troubled vision though, as the other thoughts that fight for my attention rise to the surface of my mind.

  Have I been here for six weeks? What experiments have they done on me? Why can’t I remember them? When the nurse wheels me into the ward, the general hubbub of kids talking disappears and the room falls silent. Not so much as a whisper is heard as the wheelchair slowly rolls down the aisle between the beds, and my skin crawls as I feel eyes watching me go by.

  ‘Is it that bad?’ I ask Will, once the nurse moves away after helping me into bed. I try to focus on him, but all I can see is his blurry figure sitting up in bed. I strain my eyes in an attempt to see him clearly, desperate to see his reaction to how I look, but it hurts and I don’t manage even a moment of clarity.

  ‘Is what that bad?’ he asks, lightly.

  ‘My eyes,’ I reply. ‘Do they look bad?’

  ‘Totally fine,’ he lies, not missing a beat.

  I raise one eyebrow at him. ‘You don’t need to lie. You know I can handle the truth.’

  He pauses. ‘Well, they may be a little bloodshot and a little puffy around the rims, but I’m sure it will pass. What treatment did they give you?’

  ‘You don’t want to know.’ I draw my knees up into my arms and cuddle them close to my chest. The treatment is the least of my worries right now. I need to find out what happened to the last six weeks of my life and, after the treatment I received today, it’s clear I need to find out fast. I’m not sure I want to be around to discover what they have planned for me next.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  It takes several days for the blurriness to subside and my vision to completely clear. I’ve never felt sick like that before and those first few hours after the treatment were brutal. I spent most of them with my head in a bucket fighting uncontrollable waves of queasiness and trying to ignore my incredibly itchy eyes. Will was kind to me, making sure I had enough water and rubbing my back when it all became too much.

  There were times when my vision stayed blurry and others when it became intensely clear. After struggling to see anything at all, the moments of clarity were downright disturbing.

  The troubles with my vision were nothing compared to the pure dread I still feel about being called for another treatment and the confusion I feel about what I overheard while in that room. I can’t bring myself to talk to Will about the details of what happened though. Not yet at least.

  ‘Can I tell you my random fact of the day?’ Will asks.

  I raise my head to look at him. His eyes are bright and he looks desperate to tell me this one. He’s been struggling to find energy for even the simplest tasks today, so it’s nice to see him excited about something.

  ‘You know you want to hear it,’ he says. ‘Plus, it may just make you love rats even more.’

  ‘Even more than you do?’

  He grins. ‘Well, that’s impossible.’

  ‘That must’ve been some pet you had back in the ARC,’ I say, returning his grin. ‘Okay, let me have it.’

  The smile on his face widens. ‘Rats can fall five stories and survive.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yep.’ He nods, proudly.

  ‘What did you do to that poor rat?’ I laugh.

  His face drops and he gasps. ‘I would never…’

  ‘Kidding, kidding.’ I smile and lean back against the bed head to stare at the ceiling. There’s a tiny scuff of black on it I hadn’t noticed before. ‘They are pretty impressive I’ll give you that.’

  ‘Yeah, they’re survivors. I think that’s why I like them so much,’ he replies.

  I fall silent and lower my head to look down at my hands. I’ve lost weight since I’ve been here and the skin over my knuckles has tightened. The blue veins on the backs of my hands are more vivid than ever before and my fingers are always freezing cold. I’m surprised I hadn’t noticed sooner.

  Am I a survivor?

  ‘Elle?’

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘You don’t have to tell me what happened in your treatment, but if you ever want to talk about it I’m happy to listen.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I reply, refusing to look at him. I can practically feel the sympathy in his eyes as he watches me. I don’t need to see it.

  The door at the end of the room opens and a nurse enters pushing the dinner trolley inside. She makes her rounds, dropping a tray at each bed and I sit up a little straighter as she nears mine.

  ‘Any news of Kelsey?’ I ask her, as she carries a tray of food to me from the trolley.

  ‘I told you yesterday, and the day before, I can’t give out other patient information.’

  ‘Please?’ Will asks.

  The nurse shakes her head. ‘I’m not able to give you an update.’

  My shoulders sink and I lean back into bed as the woman continues to push her trolley down between the beds.

  ‘I felt certain we’d get an answer that time,’ Will says.

  I play with my food with my fork. ‘She’s been gone for days. Why aren’t they telling us anything?’

  I hear Will swallow before he replies. ‘I just hope she’s okay,’ he says.

  The door at the end of the room opens and I glance over, curious as the nurse who brought us lunch is already in the room. A chair carrying a small, sleeping girl enters. Even though my sight has been far better, it takes me a moment to realise the girl is Kelsey.

  ‘Will, Will!’ I jump up from bed. ‘It’s Kelsey.’

  His head whips up to look at her and he heaves himself from his bed, causing his food tray to drop on the ground. It lands with a crash, but he doesn’t notice the food and cutlery rolling onto the floor.

  ‘It’s really her,’ he says. ‘But she looks different.’

  We both clamber to get to her bedside as the nurse lifts her from the chair and places her into bed.

  ‘Is she okay?’ I ask him. She seems smaller than before and her skin is almost blue it’s so pale. Her hair seems to have lost the richness to its colour and has become brittle and dry.

  ‘I’m fine,’ her small voice answers, before the nurse has a chance to respond.

  ‘Hey Kels, how are you feeling?’ Will asks, a massive grin on his face. He takes her hand and gives it a squeeze.

  Her eyes slowly blink open. They look tired and the gutsy determination I noticed when I first met her is nowhere to be seen. She looks like a little girl who is extremely unwell and the sight scares me. She’s deteriorated so much in only a matter of days. Is this what happens to everyone in here?

  I sneak a glance at Will. His health seems to have declined drastically during the short time I’ve known him. Even now, he’s clawing onto his IV stand to keep himself upright. A sickening certainty enters the pit of my stomach. He’s next.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she says, trying to sit up.

  ‘You should rest,’ I say, taking a seat on the bed by her side and propping pillows behind her back.

  She pouts. ‘But I want us to do a puzzle.’

  ‘Maybe tomorrow,’ I reply.

  Will takes a seat on the other side of her bed. Relief fills his eyes now he no longer needs to stand. ‘Where have you been the last few days?’ Will asks.

  ‘Nowhere,’ Kelsey replies, frowning.

  Wills eyes lock onto mine, before looking back at her. ‘What do you mean, nowhere?’ he asks.

  Kelsey opens her mouth wide i
n a large yawn. Her eyes are already heavy with exhaustion, but she fights against sleep’s pull.

  ‘You kids should let her rest,’ the nurse says.

  I jump at his comment, not realising he was still at the end of her bed. I stand and take a step back. Will quickly follows, but we both continue to hover by her bedside.

  Kelsey’s breath has become steady and her eyes droop closer and closer to sleep. ‘We’ll see you in the morning,’ I say, but I don’t think she hears me, as she appears to have already drifted off.

  ‘What did they do to her?’ I ask Will, as we walk away.

  ‘She’s probably been sedated while they were treating her. Maybe she doesn’t remember what happened over the last few days?’

  ‘Maybe,’ I reply. I also lost memories after being sedated though, and with six weeks of memories gone and lied about, it would be too convenient if Kelsey has lost hers too.

  Will stumbles over his feet and I reach out to catch his arm, grasping it tightly, so as not to let go.

  ‘Maybe I need some rest too,’ he says, as he ever so slowly rights himself.

  I don’t respond. I can’t. Seeing him looking so frail is frightening and makes my heart break. He was so much better when I first arrived, and seeing how quickly his illness has progressed in a matter of days is terrifying. He seems too exhausted to even notice it himself.

  I help him over to his bed, only feeling my concern ease once he’s safely under the covers. I stand back to look at him. He was fine until his last treatment, but since then he’s only gotten worse.

  ‘You feeling okay?’ I ask.

  He peers up at me, before rolling his eyes and snuggling his head back into the pillow. ‘Stop looking at me like I’m dying.’

  ‘I wasn’t,’ I try to object.

  ‘Yeah, yeah. That’s what they all say.’ He softly laughs into his pillow.

  I go to respond, but his breathing has already become heavy and there’s a light wheeze to his breath. Instead, I slowly back away to my own bed.

  He wasn’t nearly this bad when I arrived. His bones were maybe showing more than they should and his skin was several shades paler than you’d expect, but he was fine. Why is he so much worse since his last treatment?

  A sense of urgency stirs within me. I need to find out what is happening in this place. I need to know why these treatments are only making us worse. I try to settle down for the night, but I’m consumed by my worries and they stay with me as I fall into a broken and fitful sleep.

  CHAPTER NINE

  I bang my fist against the hard white door to my room. ‘Will you let me out of here?’ I scream. My voice sounds hoarse and disjointed, it almost echoes in the realm of my dream. I feel a desperate, consuming need to leave this place. ‘You can’t keep me in here forever!’

  I beat my fist one last time against the door before collapsing down onto the floor and leaning my head against the cool tiles. I stare at a spot on the wall where there are notches that have been carved into it. There are five rows of five of the thin scratches. Only 25 days in here, but it feels like an eternity.

  The dream fades out of focus, as though I’m waking up, but instead of returning to the darkness of the children’s ward I am thrown back into the small lonely room. I’m lying on the small bed staring up at the ceiling. I hear movement out in the hallway and my eyes lift to the doorknob, waiting for it to turn. My heart beats quickly in my chest. I don’t know what is coming, but I know when that door opens it’s something to fear.

  The doorknob twists and as the door swings in I see a familiar shadowed figure standing by the entrance to my room. He steps inside and I catch a brief glimpse of his face, but the shadows seem to follow him and quickly shroud him in darkness once again. From what I can see, he’s not one of the doctors in here. Judging by the impeccable state of his navy-blue suit and his slicked back, gelled hair, he’s someone important.

  ‘What do you want?’ I growl. ‘You going to try and convince me you people want to help? I’ve already had the pep-talk.’

  ‘Now, is that any way to treat a guest?’ he asks, closing the door behind him. As the door shuts my dream ends and a thick fog blankets my thoughts. I try to push against the haze, desperate to see past it, but it’s useless. My dream is trapped and I have no way to access it. As I slowly drift awake, I hear words in the recesses of my mind.

  ‘If you agree to cooperate I will let you see the friend you were trying to escape North Hope with,’ the man says.

  My eyes fly open and my thoughts race as I try to process what I’ve dreamed … or was it just a dream? It’s the dead of night and all the children in the ward are asleep, but I couldn’t feel more awake.

  I keep repeating the words I’d heard as I floated back to consciousness. Was that the same shadowed man who haunted my sleep the other night? Who had he been talking about? What did he want me to do? I have so many questions, but I have no answers. Not yet.

  Though the fragments of time I’d seen in sleep had been disjointed and confusing, they had also been incredibly clear. I feel like they couldn’t be anything other than a memory, or maybe some sort of premonition? I desperately wanted to get out of the hospital in my dream and the need to leave easily resurfaces even now I’m awake. I can feel it resonating deep inside me, like a feeling recalled rather than something new.

  I’m not exactly sure what the dream was, but resolve courses through my body and a steady certainty rushes through me. I have to trust my gut on this, and it’s telling me this place isn’t what it claims to be and we need to get out of here, fast.

  Will struggles to push himself into a seated position. ‘They’re taking you off for another round of treatment?’ he asks.

  I nod as I watch the woman re-enter the ward with a wheelchair for me. I hate having treatments, but after my dream last night I feel a sense of purpose to them. If I’m going to get us out of here, I need a plan and the first step is to find a way out of this building, which won’t happen while I’m locked up inside this room.

  ‘You’ve been getting them a lot,’ Will says. ‘I don’t think you’ve had a day off this week.’

  ‘Yeah, lucky me.’ I try to keep my voice light, but the extra attention I’ve been getting can’t be good. After each treatment I get seriously bad headaches and am in a constant state of queasiness. At least I can be grateful I haven’t had anything too traumatic after the eye procedure.

  ‘Well, don’t have too much fun without me,’ I joke to Will, when the nurse approaches the end of my bed.

  Will gives me a smile. ‘I won’t.’ The smile falls from his face and he coughs.

  ‘You alright?’ I ask.

  ‘I’m fine. Just an itchy throat,’ he rasps, when the coughing subsides.

  He’s trying to play it off like it’s nothing, but he can’t hide the fear in his eyes. When he notices me watching, he smiles brightly in an attempt to prove he’s okay. I’m not fooled, and the urge to get us out of here stirs within me again.

  ‘If you say so,’ I mumble.

  The nurse wheels me out of the room and into the corridor beyond. There is no one out here and the place is as empty as usual.

  I close my eyes as we continue on and take deep breaths. The wheels on the chair squeak with each rotation and I can’t fight the shivers that work their way down my spine as I listen. I hate going for tests and not knowing what I’m about to be subjected to. The more I have, the more powerless I feel.

  It scares me to think I’ve lost all autonomy over my body. Especially when I’m questioning the procedures they’re putting me through.

  The wheelchair slows as we approach one of the nameless doors. I have no idea where I’ve been brought. Given the route we’ve taken and the small table by the doorway, I don’t think I’ve been here before, but I won’t be certain until I’m taken inside.

  ‘What am I having done today?’ I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

  The nurse ignores my question and proceeds to take my cuff of
f, placing it on the table outside the room before opening the door and pushing me inside.

  As I enter I find myself facing a massive machine that takes up half the room. The monstrous cylindrical thing is large and round with a gapping hole through the centre of it that emits a soft blue glow. There’s a large glass window along one wall and I can see two doctors sitting at computers on the other side. In the shadows behind them stands a man in a smart looking suit. The reflection from the window makes it difficult to see his face though.

  ‘Who’s that man in the suit?’ I ask the nurse.

  She glances at the glass wall and immediately stands a little straighter, smoothing down the front of her dress with her hands.

  ‘Just someone here to observe,’ she replies, turning away from the glass and leaning in close to me as if hoping her words won’t be overheard.

  I raise one eyebrow at her. It’s pretty obvious he’s not ‘just someone.’ The way the nurse’s behaviour has changed in the last thirty seconds, you’d swear we were in the presence of royalty.

  ‘Now, up onto the table with you,’ she says, pointing at a long slab that extends from the mouth of the machine. I glance back at the glass to try and get a better look at the man, but he’s standing too far away to see him clearly. I focus back on the task at hand.

  ‘What is this?’ I ask the nurse, eyeing the machine with distrust.

  ‘It’s an MRI scanner,’ she replies. ‘It will scan your body and take pictures of the inside.’

  I scrunch my lips up as I consider the cold and intimidating machine. The sheer size of it is the stuff of nightmares. But, if it’s just taking pictures, surely it can’t be that bad.

  The nurse helps me transfer onto the table and then injects a solution into my cannula. I rub at my face tiredly. I wish I’d been able to sleep better last night, but after waking from my dream Will’s coughing kept me up. His breathing was so laboured I was scared he’d stop breathing all together if I fell asleep.

  I know I’ve only just met Will, but I already feel close to him. I guess being in the hospital together does that. He’s like a little brother to me and I want to protect him in any way I can.