by JJ Liniger
“Well, that went well,” Alex said, chuckling. “Now, it’s time to meet your son.”
CHAPTER 17
BROKEN
“What? How on earth did that go well?” I asked.
“Because you lived,” Alex answered.
“Your standards for success suck.” I rubbed my hands in front of the vent letting the heat keep me from shaking. “I need to be tested for the infection.”
“What for?” Alex asked.
“I know you said not to get in the water, but I couldn’t get past the dam without going through it.”
“There’s no guarantee. Any of us could get sick. But that isn’t why I told ya to stay out of the water,” Alex said.
“Then why?” I asked.
“Because of the alligator.”
“Jeez, Alex! Why the heck didn’t you say that?” I asked.
“Would ya have believed me?”
“Maybe.” I shrugged and then glared. He was right, I wouldn’t have, but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. “Where did it come from?”
“Houston, she brought it with her as a baby.”
I nodded. Alex parked outside his yellow brick house. “I thought you were taking me to my son.”
“I will. First, dry clothes and then we’ll go back to the hospital.”
The rain had stopped, but the wind rocked through the trees and felt freezing as I hurried inside. Alex disappeared down the hall. I met him in the bathroom where he set pants and long-sleeved shirt on the counter. I took a quick shower and redressed. Within minutes we jumped back in his truck. The bandage on my heel did its job, and I felt only slight discomfort.
“When did you figure out it’s God’s curse, or whatever, that’s causing all this?” I asked.
“Over two years ago. We knew The Boy was connected to it, but didn’t know how. We found genetic markers in his blood similar to Carole’s. Through hair left at your house, we were able to prove he’s your son.”
Through the window, I saw a round tumbleweed being tossed by the wind. It bounced along until resting against the large tires of a tractor. The roads near the hospital were better than any other part of town. The wide building was like a beacon of hope to those left that their loved ones would be saved.
“The only blood that resists the infection is The Boy’s and he can’t produce enough. We’ve been collectin’ it in safe amounts for the past four years.”
“Why do you call him The Boy or HE or HIM? Doesn’t he have a name?”
“Reverend Brown called him Samuel because he was given to the church. The rest of us usually don’t.”
Did Samuel know this crazy theory? What must it be like to know your birth destroyed the lives of so many people?
A chill slithered down my back and I prayed that by some miracle he was never told. My child could be blissfully in the dark the same as I had been. For the first time, I understood why my father didn’t want me to know.
“Duck down,” Alex instructed.
I unbuckled and hunched in the seat. The tires rolled across the parking lot, stopping in the shadow of the building.
“Where are we?”
“Employee parking. Wait, Aaron’s heading to his car. When no one’s around, we’ll go.”
“Is hiding necessary?” I asked.
“Better to be cautious. I’m tired of saving your butt.”
“Okay, fine. Thanks, I appreciate it.”
I shifted in the seat, slouching uncomfortably. After hearing the sound of an engine start and then drive farther away, I peeked out the window. A dozen cars and four trucks scattered throughout the lot.
“Let’s go,” Alex said.
I opened the door and stretched my legs and back. Alex walked to the building, his head darting about. Even living in New York City, I wasn’t used to being so cautious. His level of paranoia unsettled me. The people who wanted me locked up must be crazier.
As we approached the door, it swung out to us. Alex shoved me and I slammed into the bricks on the side of the door.
A woman gasped. “Oh, Alex, you scared me. I wasn’t expecting anyone.”
“Sorry about that, Karen.”
They chatted about people I didn’t know while I glared at the back of the door. Alex took the task of sneaking me back in a little too seriously. What would Karen do if she saw me? Freak out? Alert the attack dogs?
Peering through the crack of the door, I saw the hallway illuminated by bright fluorescent bulbs. I couldn’t be concealed once past this door. Why hide?
Karen laughed. Did she know how fake it sounded? It was more like flirting than finding it genuinely funny. Alex chuckled as well, and I heard them shuffle their feet.
Alex naturally had the ability to draw attention to himself and made those around him feel like he enjoyed their company. He was either a brilliant actor or secretly Mother Teresa. His fingers held on to the frame of the door as their banter continued.
“Good night, Karen,” Alex said.
She walked by, finally allowing me to get a look at her. Braided auburn hair came past her shoulders. She wore standard purple scrubs, but attractively filled them out in all the right places. I assumed Alex and Tiffany had a solid marriage, but what if they didn’t?
Alex allowed the door to close and huddled against the shrubs, gesturing for me to follow. All this time I assumed that we’d enter the building, but now that wasn’t the case. As we walked behind the hedge, we cascaded along a ramp.
“Is this the back door you used for my escape?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“Who knows about it?”
“Obviously, it’s not completely hidden. Most people don’t see it because they don’t care to look.”
“Wouldn’t they try to break their loved ones free?”
“Then what? They know we’re pursuing a cure.”
Encased by shrubs at all sides, Alex slid his key into a metal door. The chamber released with a click, and he pulled it open. I prepared myself for the blinding white I experienced last time I arrived Down Under. Instead, it was completely dark. A chorus of moans and wailing echoed around me, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand at attention.
I followed Alex inside. He pulled out a flashlight from his pocket, but instead of shining brightly, it glowed red, like a safelight used when developing film. The door behind me closed. I focused on the red glow, illuminating a hallway. A series of evenly spaced doors lined the wall. Each led to its own tiny room.
“This is where patients go if they’re in the migraine stage,” Alex said. “Each room is soundproof.”
“Then why can I hear them?”
“Tiny microphones inside the room to project their sounds. There’s a fine line between listenin’ to them scream all the time and needin’ to know if they are hurt and need help. For them, the lack of noise and light helps them to relax. When the pain has subsided, they join the others in the White Room where they stay until their health further deteriorates. Usually when the migraines stop, it’s the first sign their bodies are shuttin’ down.”
I frowned, remembering that group not saying anything but wandering around mindlessly.
We hurried past a door and turned right down a hallway. In the distance, light poured in from another entrance. It allowed my eyes to adjust to the light gradually rather than the abrupt entrance I received from the elevator.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked.
“To your son.”
“I know that. What section is he in?”
“The middle. Since he’s not sick, it’s the best place for him. He’s given as close to a normal life as possible.”
“Do they hate him?”
“It’s a love-hate relationship. They hate bein’ sick, but they know HE’s the link to the cure. If HE were to die, then all hope is lost. HE’s well-protected.”
I smiled knowing my son was safe. I hated the idea of him being in danger because of me and his crazy mother.
O
nce beyond the darkness, we walked toward a glass house. The walls bent and curved in a maze-like fashion. Still no privacy. The residents in this area wore solid-colored scrubs, but in various colors making their clothing appear more normal. Looking through the clear glass walls, the furniture inside each dorm was made of woods, wrought iron and various fabrics. The mismatched items reminded me of a crowded antique store.
Outside the maze, I saw four men dressed in the same gray slacks, collared shirt, black tie and white jacket, identical to the ones who took Nicholas from Game Zone.
Alex whispered. “Those are Takers. They bring those infected here and provide for them. If a patient has a need, they’ll be notified.”
“Mr. Black, can I help you?” Jacob asked, dressed the same as the other Takers. No wonder the grip he used on me at the bar was so effective. Jacob’s eyes narrowed, his lips pursed in inspection.
“I’m taking Trevor to see The Boy. Do ya know where he is?”
“West Wing. Another report needs your attention,” Jacob said.
“I’ll take him and then check the report.”
Jacob nodded and marched along, moving with military precision.
“Alright, Trev. Let’s go.”
We traveled quickly, stopping in front of another glass wall. My eyes scanned the faces of those inside. Most of them I didn’t recognize, but others were family members of former friends and people I had once known well. My heart ached for them, and I wanted to fix this. I wished they’d look at me and see someone who cared, but based on their evil glares, that wasn’t the case. Unlike the previous group which ignored us completely, this group was still aware and angry.
We walked along the hallway surrounded by glass walls. Alex spoke to a Taker and handed me something similar to a pen.
“Press the top to speak to HIM if ya want to. You should know that everyone on the inside will hear ya,” Alex said.
“Thanks.” I took the thing and let it rest in my hand.
Many of the people were kids around my son’s age, making it difficult for me to identify him. My father’s words of black hair and a smile like my own echoed in my mind. I scanned the ocean of frowns and glares until I found a face who looked back at me with something different. Love?
His hazel eyes reminded me of Mother’s. It didn’t make sense. His shaggy raven hair fell around his ears and neck, partially covered by a dark gray hoodie. Rather than wearing scrubs like those around him, he had on baggy jeans and a yellow shirt with rays of the sun peeking through the zipper of his jacket. A smile on his face emphasized a scar on the right side of his upper lip.
I leaned closer to the glass without thought. So did the boy. He placed his hand on the glass and I did the same. His fingers were slightly shorter than mine. The stares of those inside barely registered as my hand felt welded in place on the glass.
So consumed by Samuel, I vaguely heard Alex say he’d return as he walked further away.
My son’s mouth opened, and I leaned closer. He pointed to the object Alex gave me. I lifted it to my face and pressed the button.
“Hi, Samuel. Do you know who I am?”
He nodded.
“How?”
“Everyone knows our story.” His voice sounded slow and drawn out as it came through the device. “It’s a story told each time somebody comes to visit one of my friends here or when a new one arrives.” Pink flushed his cheeks. “They want to see The Boy.”
I grimaced. The details shouldn’t have been repeated. Since Tiffany’s father had been here, it explained Hannah’s familiarity with the story. It didn’t take away the creepiness when used as a theme for her Barbie playtime.
“I’m sorry this happened,” I said.
“Father Brown taught me to love God and to serve others. It’s what I do.”
I understood why people had their love-hate relationship with him, but I didn’t think it had to do with a cure. I’d never given much thought to the positive or negative energy people radiate. Looking at my son, I saw a shining example of seeing the silver lining in everything. It made him easy to like.
“What can I do for you?” I asked.
My words echoed back through the receiver and those inside heard my voice. Most of them carried on with their books, conversations and games.
He shrugged. “You’ll have to ask Mr. Black or Grandma Porter.”
My mother was a grandmother. I’d missed the obvious. In typical fashion, I focused on myself and how becoming a parent affected me. I hadn’t considered how Mother would be affected.
“Do you see your grandma often?” I asked.
“Yeah. She gave me a watch. I can try to keep track of the days.” He grinned and lifted his arm, showing me the bulky black band and face of an analog clock. “Grandma gave it to me last year on my birthday.”
I smiled, recognizing the watch as my dad’s and felt glad to know someone celebrated my child’s birth.
My mind raced as I looked around. In the room behind Samuel was a kitchen with multiple appliances and a counter with a wooden top. Someone used a butcher knife to slice carrots. In another room, a group of kids sat around a table playing cards. A Taker marched past, his eyes focused on those inside.
There were many things I wanted to say, ‘I’m sorry.’ ‘I didn’t know.’ ‘Please forgive me’, but nothing sounded right. What do I say to people whose lives have been destroyed?
“How old are you?” I asked.
“Thirteen next month,” he said with a grin.
“Will you have a party?”
He shrugged. “Mrs. Tiffany brings cupcakes.”
The blade of the knife reflected off the lights, drawing my attention back to the kitchen. The person chopping threw the ingredients into a large pot on the stove which faced my direction. Looking into the angry face of Nicholas Wright, I wondered how he arrived at this section so fast. He had coughed blood. Maybe he had concealed his symptoms longer and by the time they took him he had skipped over the initial stage. Looking away, I focused on my son.
“I’m trying to help,” I said. “I talked to Monica, or tried to.”
“What’s she like?” Samuel lowered his hand from the glass and sat in a chair facing me. “No one talks about her.”
I paced the narrow hallway in front of him, thinking of how to answer. “She’s different now than when I knew her. Back then she made friends easily.”
“Kinda like me.” He gestured to those around him.
He considered those trapped with him his friends. “I think you get that skill from your mother and your optimism from your adoptive father. Did you enjoy living with Reverend Brown?”
“Yes.” His mouth turned into a frown. It was the first time he seemed sad by the challenges he faced. This moment of weakness helped me to see him as a child who had lost his family. His hazel eyes pierced my heart.
How many kids were trapped in there with their mom and dad standing on the other side?
“Samuel, I won’t leave here until I’ve found a solution. I promise you, I’ll do something.”
“You keep saying that,” came a voice much too deep to be my son’s.
Since all heard me, I didn’t know who had spoken. Looking at the surrounding faces, it could’ve been anyone. Instinct led my eyes to Nicholas. In front of him, laid a slab of raw meat resting in a puddle of red. The knife dripped.
“He’s right, you keep saying that,” Nicholas said, and stepped from the kitchen. He weaved through the glass, walking to the same room as Samuel with the knife leaving a trail of crimson.
Samuel didn’t appear frightened, but I was. Alex was confident that no one would hurt the boy. I wasn’t so certain.
“I mean it. I’ll go to Monica and back here, again and again, until I figure out what the three of us have to do to make this right again.”
“No!” Nicholas yelled. With the handle of the knife he banged it into the glass.
I immediately stepped back. The clear wall separating us appeared sturdy and
withstood the hit, but I wasn’t sure how much it could handle.
Had other people tried to escape or attack? Or did it take a special kind of crazy which Nicholas had mastered years ago?
“What do you want from me?” I said a little louder than I should've. My stomach tightened as stress swam through my body.
“Isolation!” He slammed the knife’s blade against the glass and a splinter shot through my reflection like a rock to a windshield. “Destruction!” He raised his arm again. “Death!”
“Samuel, run! Get out!” I was the target, but didn’t know if Nicholas could get to me. The large room quickly filled with people, blocking Samuel’s exit. They ran together to the glass.
Why weren’t alarms sounding?
The Takers who had previously been casing the walkway had conveniently disappeared. Whatever happened, I didn’t want Alex or anyone else to save me again.
How would I defend myself against a mob?
Their pounding on the glass sounded like a stampede all hitting at different times and with various strength. Nicholas stood in the middle with a confident smirk on his face, the knife abandoned at his feet.
The people were ready to spring free. There wasn’t anything I could use as self-defense and, living in a glass house, they knew this underground bunker better than I did. God, help me!
“Stop!” I yelled into the thing in my hand, but it did no good. “I’m not your enemy!”
With a piercing crack, the initial splinter burst into a web of streaks in all directions. The people on the inside cheered like fans at a football game. Somehow, I needed to defuse the situation.
“Samuel, be careful!” I didn’t know if he heard me over the screams as the glass finally gave way. The crash echoed as shards shot in every direction.
Nothing separated us.
Sirens wailed above as people spilled out through the opening.
CHAPTER 18
ESCAPE