Pulse

by Danielle Koste

  “I thought you left me for dead. Would have been the smartest thing you’ve done.”

  “I guess I’m stupid.” She grabbed the blood bag, standing again. “Here, I have something for you.”

  The outer security door was unlocked, so she opened it up and entered, gliding towards the second. Like the first time she ever fed him, she kneeled down to the food hatch at the door, but hesitated with the bag in her hand.

  She knew she should just slide it in across the floor like always, that she shouldn’t get anywhere near the hatch with him in this state of hunger, and yet, she found herself lowering further, her hands beginning to shake as she opened the hatch.

  She needed to prove that she trusted him. Prove that he could trust her. So, now nearly laying on the floor, Rowan reached her trembling hand holding the blood through the hatch, elbow deep, to hand the bag off to him.

  She heard him move in a flash from the glass to the other side of the door, flinching with the movement and covering her mouth to silence a yelp. She expected him to snatch the bag from her grip, or something worse, so when she was still holding it after a long moment, it sent her heart beat into a wild pound in her ear as she tried to listen through it.

  It took a moment before she heard movement again, like he was just as timid and unsure about reaching out as she had been putting her hand in there with him, but after a second, she heard him shift slowly closer. She flinched a second time, when her skin sensed his reaching hand, but she managed to keep from withdrawing the unsteady limb for just long enough to allow the weight of the blood to transfer to his palm, pulling quickly back to the safe side of the door. With her recoil, his fingertips grazed hers, and it left her with electricity under her skin, like the touch had shocked, even though she wasn’t wearing the protective cuff.

  Once the blood was in his grasp, he reacted as she’d expected, tearing into the bag immediately to quench a deep thirst. Leaned with her back against the door to try and calm down, she could hear him drinking, taking deep heavy breaths through his nose as he did. Her curiosity getting the better of her, Rowan lowered her head to peek through the hatch, and one of his hands came down onto the floor to brace himself. Blood stained his fingers.

  Shaken, she stood quickly and returned to the glass wall, waiting patiently for him to finish while trying not to think about the fact that it was once again her donation he drank. No matter how she spun it, the thought still left her uncomfortable in her skin, so she preferred to ignore it all together.

  The wounds on his arms stitched themselves together now that he had a fresh meal rejuvenating his system, and even in the darkness, Rowan could see a bit of color come back to his face. With his dire state tended to, the air between them shifted to an uneasy contemptment, a silence stretching for far longer than Rowan would have liked. She didn’t break it though, not yet. It wasn’t her place. She’d let him speak first, if he even would.

  He sighed, a breath filled with the anger, frustration, and hopelessness he had to have felt the last few days, then looked over his shoulder towards the glass. His gaze landed right where she sat, and Rowan wondered if those predator eyes could see her shape through the one-way glass now that all the lights were down.

  “Why are you even here?”

  It was obvious that he wanted to be more sour, but restrained himself in gratitude for the first decent meal in weeks. She appreciated the attempt at civility. Considering she had been expecting him to not even speak with her at all, this was going far better than she could have ever imagined.

  Rowan neared the glass, her legs feeling weak with nerves and the remorse of seeing him so broken. She allowed herself to settle back down onto her knees as she considered her words.

  “The first day I talked to you, I said I was your only way out of here. When I said that, it was just insurance, a way of hopefully convincing you I was of more value to you alive than dead. Now though, I realize by saying that I also made a promise. By saying I was your only way out, I promised the chance to get you out, and I don’t like the idea of going back on my word.”

  He watched her for a long time, his shoulders rising and falling with labored breaths. When he turned away, he chuckled, although it wasn’t humorous at all. “You’re delusional if you think I’m ever going to leave this room.” His defeat was written all over him, from his sallow cheeks to the brittleness of his bones. They had broken him.

  He wasn’t fighting her because his fight was already gone.

  Frustration flared in Rowan. She wanted to get angry and tell him not to give up, and that she’d find a way, but she knew being upset wouldn’t help anything. The hostility between them had to stop. She offered a joke instead.

  “I think we’ve kinda proven that I’m not very sane, considering I agreed to talk to you in there in the first place.”

  She searched for his shadowy figure, curled up on the floor like a wounded, scared animal, and saw the small, bitter smile spread across his face. Had she won him over? She held as still as possible, scared that even moving would send him retreating back into his shell.

  He reached out and used the wall to pick himself up again, shuffling closer to the glass separating them. Rowan wanted desperately to help, but she could only watch him struggle. He stopped in front of her, leaning his back against the glass and sliding down to the floor.

  He sat there, his head resting on the wall between them, his expression softer than she had ever seen it. He looked weak and tired. Too tired to hold up pretenses, too tired to pretend to be anything other than trapped and dying and hopeless. He closed his eyes and took in a breath, and she wondered for a moment how she had seen anything other than the scared and wounded boy he was now. How had she ever been afraid of him?

  She curled up her fingers, trying to resist the urge to reach out to him. He was a monster, a blood hungry animal who admitted to killing people for sport the last time they spoke. So when had she suddenly become so protective of the beast? When had her primal fear of him turned into something more? When had she become more scared of the people around her than of the blue-eyed demon she talked to?

  When did he stop being a subject, and started being…

  “Lyall.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched up. “No one has called me that in a very long time. It’s strange hearing it on someone else’s voice.”

  “I’m sorry.” Rowan feared she offended him, but as she said the words she realized the apology wasn’t just for her using his name without permission, but for absolutely everything.

  He shook his head, brushing off her remorse. “I like how it sounds,” he replied, barely a whisper, like he physically wouldn’t dare say it louder.

  After settling the flutter of her gut, she added, “I mean, for all this.”

  He sighed in response. “I would have killed you if you stayed. You did what you had to.”

  “You must have thought I abandoned you.”

  “I’ve been abandoned before,” he added, like it proved some point, a point that his heart was steel and nothing pierced it. All Rowan heard was pain, though.

  “Well, I’m not leaving. I’m going to help you get out of here. Whatever it takes. I promise.”

  She couldn’t resist anymore. Without hesitation, she flattened her fingers onto the glass.

  Rowan couldn’t be sure how he had known. Whether he could hear her racing pulse through her palm, or could see her ghostly shape through the glass. He knew though, and as he glanced out of the corner of his eye towards her, his expression shifted, and Rowan’s heart picked up a beat.

  “I’ll disappoint you.” He spoke, and his eyes went cold again as he directed his gaze back to the darkness. A warning. “Whatever you think will happen, whatever you want me to be, you’ll be disappointed. You’d be better off letting me die in here.”

  She pretended like his words didn’t bother her, but they crept passed her hard-headed determination and infected her with doubts. Rowan understood why he was saying it. It
was the same reason he called her delusional and stupid for thinking there was any way he was leaving the cell he was trapped in. Because he had accepted that he was going to die here, a fact she was choosing to ignore.

  Even though Rowan knew that the only way he would get out would be virus-free, and she knew that he would never willingly accept a cure, she didn’t want to think about it. It was too hopeless, and she wasn’t ready to stop fighting yet. She’d figure out a way, whatever it took.

  She’d promised.

  “I’m going to help you get out of here,” she repeated, giving her final word. Because even though she didn’t know what exactly she was committing to, she felt the vow in her bones.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Rowan found herself in Miller’s office again the following morning, the mood already dreadful, right where it left off three weeks previously. Back then, Rowan would have appreciated any moment she was offered to get herself closer to the woman’s good side. That was before, though. Before the electrocution, before leaving Lyall to die, before Phelps was forced to leave just to avoid getting tangled up in the mess she was now neck deep in.

  When Rowan sat across from Miller, she already knew she wasn’t there for pleasantries. Miller confirmed the suspicion by simply turning her computer screen to reveal what she was watching: a security video of Rowan entering the observation room the night before.

  “I thought you were smarter than this, Miss Platts,” Miller sighed, leaning back in her chair and sending a sharp look over the edges of her glass.

  This wasn’t how Rowan wanted her to find out. She had accounted for the security footage ahead of time but hoped she’d have enough time to speak to the woman before she was made aware of what Rowan had done. It didn’t really matter, but she would’ve liked to have approached the woman without her judgement already made.

  “Maybe I was giving you the benefit of the doubt, but I at least thought Phelps knew better than to help you ruin your career like this.” Shaking her head, genuine disappointment crossed Miller’s features, and she leaned forward onto her elbows. “You do realize what you’ve done here is ground for termination and retraction of your doctorate? If you had one, of course. I won’t even get into what this could mean for your friend on the security staff...”

  Rowan lowered her eyes, locking them onto her folded hands in her lap, trying to keep herself calm. She had her words planned out. They’d been written in her head like a script that she’d been practicing for days. Miller wouldn’t listen though, if Rowan came off even the slightest bit irrational.

  “I understand.”

  She must have expected Rowan to put up a fight, to be hard-headed and argumentative like previously, because she seemed thrown off by Rowan’s surrender. Miller inhaled, contemplating something difficult. When she spoke again, it was after releasing a level breath.

  “You’ve put me in a really difficult position, Miss Platts. I should make an example of you. If I don’t, my position as a leader of this team could come into question, and in a situation like this, it’s important that the others trust me, and respect me. What will they think, if I get wishy washy with my rules, if I pick favorites and allow exceptions?”

  It was clear Miller was trying to express some sort of appreciation for Rowan, making her remember that first day when she looked at Miller with starry-eyed amazement, so sure she found a mentor she could truly identify with. Her words, however dire and disappointed, were also almost comforting. To know she still respected Rowan so much, that at least part of the connection was real.

  Miller ruined it though, by adding an afterthought. “Thank God nothing worse happened while you were in there. I can’t even imagine what it would have meant for us if he injured you in some way, or something worse.”

  Rowan couldn’t help but notice that this time Miller’s concern wasn’t so much about her and what could have happened, but rather the effect it would have on the dynamics of the project.

  She resisted a frustrated tone as she forced a level, recited response. “I’m very sorry my actions might have caused problems, doctor, and I apologize for having to put you in a place where you have to make a difficult decision. I understand if I’m no longer allowed to participate on the project, or even this profession. If you have to make an example of me that’s perfectly fine, I was prepared to accept the consequences of my actions, and I will take whatever punishment you deem acceptable without argument. I only ask your forgiveness on Cameron’s behalf; he didn’t know what he was helping me with.”

  Once again, Miller seemed taken off guard with Rowan’s passiveness, clicking her pen for an extended moment as she thought. Unable to help prodding Rowan’s reasoning further, she posed a question instead of making a decision. “You knew that not only could you lose everything for this, you were also putting yourself in serious danger, and still you went against me and visited the subject. Why?”

  “I thought it was worth the risk,” Rowan answered, continuing when Miller gave a skeptical noise in her throat. “He has value to this project. He’s lived with the virus for his whole life, and he knows things about it that we will never be able to learn from just studying it under a microscope.”

  “When we move onto human testing, we’ll know all we need to,” Miller countered, unamused by the recurring argument.

  Rowan insisted, though. “If you’re doing human testing you’ll be required to have a working antiviral completed beforehand. How will you test its effectiveness without an infected subject?”

  She’d managed to catch Miller with that one a little, but as quickly as the consideration passed her expression, she was responding. “How will we test it on an uncooperative, infected subject?”

  Daring to lift her gaze finally, she caught Miller from across the desk, trying to establish a connection. She grew to know Margot Miller rather well the last few weeks. She was, at the very least, not a stupid woman. Rowan had clearly pointed out a flaw in the course of the project that needed a solution before they could ever think of moving forward. A flaw she had a solution to. Now, it was just a matter of selling it, with a little embellishment.

  “I went there last night to talked to him. He’s tired, and hungry, and scared. He just wants to leave that room. I think… No, I know that I can get him to cooperate with us, if given the opportunity.”

  Miller sat back again in her seat, swaying back and forth and clicking her pen a few times once more, letting the silence stretch as she contemplated. When she spoke again, it was less like a argument than her previous additions, and more like she was just looking for confirmation to what she already predicted Rowan was offering.

  “None of my doctors want anything to do with him.”

  Rowan didn’t bother hesitating. “I’ll do it. If you allow me, I’ll give him the antiviral.”

  “A very well executed proposal, Dr. Platts.” Satisfied, Miller gave a small smile, nodding, an expression close to approval on her face. “Seems like I was right. You were smarter than that. We’ll discuss the details of this arrangement tomorrow, then.”

  She tried to keep her professionalism, but Rowan was sure her posture dropped a fraction in relief. Without further conversation, she rose to leave, but Miller stopped briefly once more.

  “I just have a last question. A curiosity more than anything.” When Rowan paused to invite the question, Miller gave another sly smile before continuing. “What’s in this for you?”

  Her mouth opened to respond, but when words didn’t come, Rowan realized she hadn’t prepared for that question. The answer came right away, but didn't dare say it. Miller saw the look that swept across Rowan’s expression before she could conceal it though, getting all the answer she needed.

  Miller hummed, adding, “You’re not obligated to answer that. Perhaps it was an inappropriate question. But, I’d consider having a response ready, for next time. Otherwise, someone might see your commitment as something closer to infatuation.”

  Rowan nodded curtly, and lef
t Miller’s office, the outcome of their conversation successful, yet, it still left a sour taste in her mouth.

  Miller’s stipulations were clear: Rowan was prohibited from participating in the research portion of the study anymore, nor allowed speak to any of the other doctors, and was restricted specifically to the observation room where she’d work on re-establishing trust with the subject. It was up to her alone to provide the dietary needs for the subject now, and when the day came to administer the antiviral, if she hadn’t done her job at making him trust her and something happened… Well, any evidence of Rowan’s involvement with the project had already been disposed of, so nobody would know any different.

  On top of all that, Miller tied it all together with the threat that Cameron’s career would go along with hers if she failed to gain the subjects trust, just to ensure Rowan was much more motivated to prove herself.

  Miller could keep piling on the insurance. It didn’t make a difference to Rowan. She wasn’t doing it to help Miller, or the project, or even herself this time. She was doing it to help Lyall. To help get him out of there. The only way to do that, was to take the virus away.

  While there was still a ways to go between them after the electrocution, it wasn’t trust that she needed to work on building with Lyall. It was a flickering flame between them, but it was there now, she felt it. Instead, it would be convincing him to let her help, which took a lot more than just trust. She’d have to make him see her plan, make him understand that there was only one way out of that room, and as desirable as the power the virus gave him was, he’d have to let it go for her to be able to get him his freedom.

  Rowan knew she had a task ahead of her, but she also had time to worry about the details later. For now, she could be relieved that her plan worked. So far, at least.