Minutes later, the rain stopped and the air around her instantly rose thirty degrees. It felt like Cornelia’s kitchen or the front porch of the olive-green house in early morning sun.
“We found her outside. She’s in pretty bad shape.”
“Dr. Avery, report to room 303.”
“Take her down the hall to room 106. I’ll get a doctor there as soon as I can.”
The unfamiliar voices, beeping, buzzing, and gagging smell of disinfectants put her on edge. The only place she could associate with that overwhelming smell was a hospital. It brought back memories of the broken leg she’d suffered at six years old. Her mind grasped for a way to escape, but nothing came to her.
“You’ll be all right,” the sympathetic guard said. “Just hang in there.”
The strong arms that held her loosened and lowered her. Soon her back met a hard surface and her head sank into something soft that sounded like walking on dry leaves.
She kept her face turned away from the door even after she heard it click shut. Her hands and feet ached with a prickly tingling as the room’s warmth chased away any numbness. Breathing slowly to calm herself, she positioned her good arm so she would be ready to defend herself the minute she heard the first squeak of a door opening.
Only a few moments passed before the knob clicked once then again. She sat up quickly and swung around on the exam table. It was too quick and the ceiling sank to the floor as everything spun around her. Lareina squeezed her eyes shut and pressed a hand against her forehead.
“Rochelle, is that you?”
Chapter 17
The immediate relief at hearing the familiar voice felt like a rope being tightened around her lungs had let go and she could breathe again. She opened her eyes and her vision came back into focus to reveal Aaron’s kind face right in front of hers. It had been three days since she’d left him on the train, but already his eyes seemed brighter, less sunken, and his cheeks had lost their familiar pallor. He wore a white coat that matched the rest of the room, all a blinding, clean white. Lareina looked down at her hands, arms, and clothes all caked with mud. No wonder such hesitance gripped his voice. How could he possibly recognize her?
“Aaron, it’s me,” she whispered through chattering teeth.
For a moment she forgot about her aching arm, and tried to sit up, but the pain surged back and dizziness returned. Whimpering, she fell back against crinkling paper that covered the exam table.
Aaron put one hand on hers and another, warm, against her forehead, but watched her with a mixture of concern and confusion. “It’s okay, you’re safe now. Rochelle, what happened to you?”
She tried again to sit up, and this time Aaron slipped an arm behind her shoulders. “Galloway almost caught me, but I got away, for now.” Shivering, she looked around the small, windowless room. Panic seeped through her body although she tried to swallow it down. Being trapped in the tiny white room, with no idea what waited outside and no escape route, increased her anxiety. “What is this place?”
“You’re in a hospital at a place called Oak Creek.” Aaron rested a gloved hand lightly on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you fixed up and you’ll be just fine.” He glanced at her arm while she stared at the spotless, white wall.
Aaron helped her out of her filthy jacket and she fought back the instinct to sob as the material pulled away from her wound.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized, already examining the injury.
“Is it bad?” She sniffled, fighting back tears.
“No. The bullet just grazed you. But I have to clean it up or it’ll get infected.” With his arm still behind her, Aaron slowly lowered her until her head once again rested against the pillow. “Close your eyes. I’m just going to gather a few supplies.”
A rustling sound, like alley cats in a dumpster, followed the high-pitched running of water that filled a container with a hollow echo. Lareina focused on breathing in and out. The entire day felt like a hallucination that began as a nightmare and ended like a dream. Could Aaron’s presence be nothing more than a trick of her mind? She considered pinching herself to find out, but her throbbing arm seemed enough punishment to prove the reality of an old friend treating her wound in a strange hospital.
The room grew eerily silent. “Aaron, you’re still here, right?”
His hand touched hers. “I’m right here. I’m going to wash the dirt away from your wound. I’ll be careful, but it might hurt a little.”
She opened one eye in time to see a white cloth and bowl of soapy water in gloved hands. Swallowing hard, she braced herself for the pain; it hurt enough already. Aaron dabbed it with the washcloth and she felt the bullet rip across her skin all over again. Unable to remain still, she squirmed as far away as she could get without plunging off the exam table.
“It hurts,” she whimpered.
He reached for her arm again but she pulled it away.
“Rochelle, you have to let me do this or you’ll be dealing with a serious infection by the end of the week.”
Lareina looked at Aaron through watery eyes. She was in no position to argue, and he was just trying to help.
“Sorry. I’m ready now.”
He squeezed her hand. “Take a deep breath. I’ll do this quick. So, what happened to you on the train? We woke up and you were gone.”
Staring at the colorless ceiling, fragmented through tears, she focused on Aaron’s voice. “I started to think about Galloway and how he shot at Nick, and I jumped off the train before either of you could talk me out of it.”
“We were worried about you. It looks like we were right to worry.”
“Everything went wrong. I don’t think I could have made it much longer,” she muttered through her grimace.
“No need to worry anymore.”
As he worked on her arm, Aaron relayed events of the past few days. He and Nick had woken when the train stopped at Oak Creek and found themselves staring down the barrel of a rifle. They were hauled inside the walled community that seemed to be connected to the rest of the world only by railway. After hours in what could only be described as a prison cell, Nick and Aaron had both been questioned by a President Whitley. When the president found out about Aaron’s medical experience, he sent him straight to the hospital. Ever since, Aaron had been taking orders from the other doctors, who trusted him to care for less serious patients.
“Where’s Nick?”
Aaron finished stitching the wound. “They said something about his skill set being perfect for the new project. They sent him to the barracks . . . I think that’s what they called it. I’m not really sure what they do over there, and I haven’t had a chance to talk to him yet. I don’t leave the hospital much.” His voice became excited and hopeful. “This is the experience I’ve been hoping for, Rochelle. I’m learning so much.”
Lareina shivered involuntarily.
“Don’t worry. This is a good place. You never have to worry about food or shelter here.” He examined her arm and nodded. “All done for now. You can look at it.”
She glanced at the clean six-inch band of skin on her arm. In the middle was a two-inch raised ridge of neat stitches. Though it wasn’t bloody, the sight of the wound made her nauseous and she looked away. “Thanks, Aaron.”
He extended his arm toward her and she slipped her hand into his. With Aaron’s help, she stepped down from the exam table. He led her into an empty hallway, up one flight of stairs, and into a bigger room with a window and a bed, then showed her the door that led into a bathroom.
“Go ahead and get cleaned up and then I’ll bandage your arm. I have to go check on a few patients but I’ll be back.” He took a step toward the door then glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll make sure you get dinner and recommend that your questioning be held off until you’re rested.”
Before she could process his words, he rushed out of the room and she stood alone, barefoot on the shiny wooden floor. Taking Aaron’s advice, she went into the tiny bathroom, flipp
ed on the light, and took a look at herself in the mirror. A pale, tired reflection stared back through the glass. Her cheekbones looked like they were about to poke out of her skin, leaves and twigs stuck out of her tangled hair, and her eyes looked huge in her dirt smudged face. It had always been a point of pride to keep up with hygiene no matter where she slept.
Slipping out of her filthy clothes, she discarded them in a pile on the floor. For the first time in almost three months, she took off the pendant. Thick mud caked its surface, and she felt lighter without it weighing her down. After rinsing it under the faucet, she hung it on a hook to dry. Reaching into the shower, she twisted the knob to hot. The rush of scalding water forced her to pull her hand back.
She turned the knob back to warm and took her time showering, enjoying the clean scent of soap and scrubbing away layers of dirt that had accumulated on her skin. Feeling alert and refreshed, she dried herself and dressed in the hospital gown hanging on the door. The pendant reflected light ominously from where it hung next to the sink. Just leave it there. Someone else can find it and deal with all of the problems.
He said it would be the end of everything, of all of us. Susan’s words. The promise she’d made. Lareina reached shaking hands toward the pendant and returned it to its place around her neck, then shuffled to the bigger room.
A dull throbbing returned to her head, so she decided to rest until Aaron came back. She got into bed and pulled the warm blankets up to her chin, letting any memories of violent shivering fade away. Somewhere between sleep and consciousness, a door groaned, something clattered beside her, and footsteps padded away. Too tired for fear or curiosity, she didn’t open her eyes. If it weren’t for the delicious aroma of a warm supper, she wouldn’t have opened them at all, but her growling stomach held more influence than her fatigue.
After the door closed, she counted to twenty then opened her eyes. On a folding table next to the bed she found a tray of baked chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, and a bowl of peaches. She pulled it onto her lap and ate the food without tasting much of it in the two minutes it took her to swallow everything edible on the tray.
When she finished, Lareina slid back onto the pillow. Water dripped in the bathroom—one drop, two drops, three drops. No footsteps in the hallway. Aaron had to come soon. He said he would. Even though he seemed a little more distant, she couldn’t blame him. She had left him and Nick. Seven drops, eight drops, nine drops. Rain against the window added to the count. Ten drops, eleven drops. Her eyes closed. Twelve drops. She drifted into sleep.
A welcome brightness prompted her to open her eyes to gray daylight filtering through the curtains of her hospital room. She turned her face away from the window and closed her eyes to drift back to sleep. For a minute she did, until a knock on the door followed by the sound of its squeaky hinges startled her awake.
“Hey, how are you feeling?” Aaron carried a small gray bag and put it on the floor at the foot of her bed.
Squirming into a sitting position, she stretched her stiff arms carefully. “Better, I think.”
“Good. You were so sound asleep when I came back last night, you didn’t even wake up when I bandaged your arm.”
An involuntary shiver shook her body. The number one rule of survival was to be alert at all times. Galloway could have walked into the room and she wouldn’t have even known he was there.
“Can I check your arm?” Aaron asked, interrupting her thoughts.
She nodded and watched as he carefully unwrapped the bandage. “Aaron, is there a way out of here . . . of Oak Creek?”
He frowned as he turned her arm to examine his work. “We came in through a guarded gate. I’m not sure about other entrances or exits.” He paused to meet her eye. “But after everything you’ve been through out there, why would you want to leave?”
“Because I’m not sure I’m safe here either.”
Aaron gently taped down the edges of the new bandage. “Don’t worry. In a few days, you won’t even consider leaving. I know I don’t want to leave. I’m really making a difference here.” His eyes were bright and excited.
Whether her view of Oak Creek matched Aaron’s was yet to be determined. It would be a welcome relief to stop running and stealing just to survive, but she didn’t want to settle for the first nice place that came along. She wanted to be home. She wanted a family.
“There’s some clothes for you in that bag.” He pointed to the floor just beyond the bed. “Someone from security will be here in a couple of hours to escort you to your orientation questioning.”
She sat up straight. “What does that mean?”
“It’s nothing to worry about.” Aaron smiled and shrugged. “Relax, Rochelle. This is a good place. They just want to make sure you’re not a threat to Oak Creek. Just be honest and it’ll all be fine.”
If it weren’t for the watermelon-sized lump in her throat, she would have laughed. Being honest never worked for her, but she didn’t know the right lies to tell. She remembered the fear in the guard’s voice when he talked about the president. Lying worried her far less than what would happen to her if the president determined her unfit to remain in Oak Creek, but knowing an argument wouldn’t help, she smiled.
“I have to check on another patient, but you have an appointment in nine days to get your stitches out. I’ll see you then if not before.” Aaron started walking toward the door. He was leaving her, just like that? His distance seemed more than just irritation that she had left them. In fact, she wasn’t sure he was angry about that at all. He seemed almost too eager to tell her that Oak Creek matched the stories he’d told himself about the future he should have. Despite the changes, he was still a familiar source of comfort.
“Aaron, wait.”
By the time he turned around, she had crossed the space between them and pulled him into a tight hug. She didn’t want to be alone, didn’t want to be questioned, but human contact made her feel better.
“Thank you for helping me.”
“Anytime,” Aaron told her, and then he was gone.
Lareina washed her face, brushed her teeth, and dressed in the slacks and blouse that had been carefully folded in the gray bag. After months of wearing stiff, mud-splattered clothes, she felt overdressed, but the type of clothing Aaron had brought gave her the impression that meeting with the president was an event to be taken seriously. With shaky hands, she carefully tucked her pendant under her shirt so it wouldn’t be visible.
Her socks slid on the tiled floor as she walked to the black dress shoes waiting at the foot of her bed. At least she wouldn’t be barefoot anymore. Trying to quiet her thoughts, she took some deep breaths and stared through the window. The view included several identical buildings, all four stories tall with hundreds of windows. Beyond that the wall, and, what captivated her attention the most, a train slowly sliding by. She dreamed of being on that train and watching Oak Creek vanish far behind her. But first she wanted to talk to Nick. When she had left him, she thought he would soon be in Dallas where Aaron would help him find Ava. Now she wanted to know that he would be safe whether he chose to remain at Oak Creek or continue the search for his friend. She was surprised Aaron hadn’t talked to Nick, but he did seem busy.
A loud knock shattered her thoughts, and she opened it for her visitor. The boy in the hallway stood about six feet tall and wore black slacks with a shiny black raincoat. A nervous grin froze on his face.
“You look like you’re feeling much better than last night. I’m glad, I was a little worried.” His voice sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it. “I’m sorry, you have no idea who I am,” he said, holding out his hand. “Tony Acosta. I work security here and I found you outside last night.”
She shook his hand, seeing a possible ally in this Oak Creek security guard. “I’m Rochelle Aumont. Thank you for rescuing me.”
“Of course. You probably want to put on a jacket. It’s still raining outside.”
She grabbed the jacket Aaron had brought i
n the bag and slipped it on. With Tony leading the way, they walked through a maze of twisting hallways and steep stairways before emerging into the cool, misty morning. The sidewalks were empty of people, and Tony whistled a tune in complete contrast to his tenseness the night before.
After leaving the hospital, they followed a path that felt like a tunnel transporting them between single-story brick buildings on both sides. A dead end forced them to turn left toward a wider sidewalk that appeared to be the main walkway through the community. Lareina noted every turn in the sidewalk, every building, every open space, and every possible nook where she could hide.
Careful landscaping surrounded each building and perfectly manicured lawns lined the sidewalks. As they turned up the wide walkway, a monstrous structure came into view. Quadruple the size of any other building and covered in turrets and spires, it appeared to be a castle nestled among the dozens of plain structures.
Tony looked over at Lareina, who stood with her head tilted back to take in the entire building. “That’s where the president lives,” he explained.
Imagining the owner of such a house brought all of her anxiety back in a rush. A desire to run pulsed through her body, but she fought it and kept in step with Tony. “What is the president like?” Tony’s response and body language would hopefully give her some tips on how to handle her interview.
He pushed his hands into the pockets of his raincoat. “He’s very controlling and stubborn, so once he makes up his mind about something there’s no changing it. He can be kind of paranoid, and new people sort of put him on edge.” Tony shrugged. “We all think he’s worried about sabotage from the outside,” he whispered.
“Why would someone sabotage this place? And if he’s so worried, why does he let anyone in?”
Glancing over his shoulder, even though they hadn’t passed any people, he shook his head. “As much as he hates it, he knows the community can’t expand without an inflow of new workers. We need them in the factory.” Tony swallowed. “And to replace workers who are sent to the barracks. Plus we keep security pretty tight so there isn’t really anything to worry about.” He continued to scan the deserted sidewalks, as if someone would hear him mention something secret.
Hope for the Best Page 15