The Reaping

by Annie Oldham

  Hospital Access Restricted.

  I peer through the holes of the grate and see the tunnel continue on away from us. We’re finally here, and here we stop? I bang a fist against the grate and growl.

  Jack puts a hand on my shoulder and points up. A faint circle of daylight traces the edges of a round metal door. The door is set into a round access hole, and a rusty ladder hangs down several feet above Jack’s head.

  Safe?

  “That’s a moot point by now.”

  True. I point to the ladder.

  “I’ll boost you up. I think you can reach it.”

  Jack laces his fingers together and I step into his hands. My fingers grip the first rung and I heave myself up. Jack keeps his hands braced under my foot, and I use his strength to pull myself up the ladder. I reach for the door and it’s almost hot to the touch. It must be in direct sunlight. I look around, but there’s no sign telling me where this leads. I cling to the ladder with one hand and push against the door with the other, but it doesn’t budge.

  “Do you need both hands?”

  I nod.

  “Okay, just a second.” Jack centers himself under the access hole. “Stand on my shoulders.”

  Jack guides my foot to his shoulder, and I stand on him, my arms reaching the diameter of the access hole to brace myself.

  “Steady?”

  I nod again.

  “Okay, I’m ready.” He holds my ankles and plants his legs.

  My shoes dig into Jack’s shoulders, and I put all my strength against the round metal cover. It lifts a mere few inches, but enough so the dust spills in and I can peer out. The sun dazzles my eyes, and I blink, trying to force my eyes open against the brightness. Tears stream out of my eyes, washing out the grit. Finally my eyes adjust, and a chain-link fence comes into focus. The fence is twenty feet high, and it’s topped with a snarl of barbed wire. Beyond the fence are small squatty buildings and then the huge white block of the hospital. We’re almost there, but that barbed-wire fence makes me nervous. If there’s a fence like that, there’s bound to be additional security out there. I squint and make out guard towers in the corners of the compound. As I turn to look behind me, I realize the metal cover is in the middle of a swathe of concrete. A road. I look behind me and make out the sprawling train station. Then a shape wavers into focus through the heat haze, and I watch it for a moment as it rumbles toward me. I gasp and drop the metal cover as a truck rumbles overhead. When the rumble stops, I brace my shoulder against the cover and heave it open one last time. About twenty feet on the other side of the fence is another round cover. I crouch down and slip off Jack’s soldiers.

  “What was that?”

  Truck.

  “Are we by a road?”

  Right under.

  “Close to the hospital?”

  I nod.

  “How does it look?”

  Barbed wire. Chain link. Guard towers.

  Jack wipes the sweat off his forehead and licks his lips. They’re chapped and cracking. If we don’t get more water soon, we won’t last much longer. “The fence won’t work, not if there’s trucks driving by.”

  I nod. Another hole.

  “Like this one?”

  Building close by.

  “Look up again. Are there any more trucks?”

  Jack grunts as I step onto his shoulders and heft the cover open. I look back toward the train station. The dust from the previous truck is settling into eddies on the concrete, and nothing else is headed this way. I look toward the hospital. The chain link fence is rattling closed over the road. I totally missed the fact that the fence over the road is an enormous gate. The truck bounces in the distance, and there’s still ten feet of gate open. If we hurry, we can make it through before it closes. I have a split second to decide.

  I follow the perimeter of the fence with my eyes to the far guard tower maybe two hundred feet away. I can’t see anything in it. I turn the other way. Nothing there, either. That doesn’t mean there aren’t soldiers slouched down, ready to pounce, but it’s a chance I’m willing to take. I slide the cover onto the concrete and then go down a few rungs and offer my hand to Jack.

  “What are you doing?”

  There’s no time for any kind of explanations, not when I can hear the gate slowly closing off our immediate chance to get closer to Nell and Red.

  I thrust my hand to him again, his eyes meet mine with an intensity that burns me, and then he jumps and grips me. He almost wrenches my arm out of its socket, as he dangles and reaches for the bottom rung. I clench my jaw and my biceps are burning as I try to pull him up a fraction of an inch. Jack grunts and then wraps his fingers around the rung.

  “Got it,” he says through clenched teeth. “Go.”

  I scurry up as he pulls his feet up to the rungs and then I’m sprawled on my belly on the hot concrete as I leave the hole and head for the gate. Only five feet open. I cry out as the concrete burns my palms and my arms, and I hurry across it like a lizard with as little contact as possible. The dust coats my eyelashes and makes my eyes gritty. I cough and keep crawling, hoping that Jack is right behind me, because there’s only three more feet open.

  I slip through and collapse on the other side. Jack’s hands are there beside me, and then his shoulders, and the gate keeps creaking closed, falls silent, and then he gasps.

  “My ankle!”

  I look back and his ankle is caught in the few inches of space where the gate doesn’t quite meet the fence. His ankle is twisted and he pulls on it gingerly. I put out a hand to him.

  “No, it’s fine; it’s just stuck.” He pulls and the chain link rattles, but his foot doesn’t budge.

  I give his leg a small tug, and Jack can’t hide his wince.

  “Okay, that might start to hurt.”

  I twist his ankle the other direction and give it another tug.

  “No good.”

  I sit down and put a hand to my forehead and study his leg and foot—how in the world am I going to do this?—when a movement catches my eye. It’s the faint waver of a truck leaving the train station. I sit up and motion to Jack.

  “No.” He turns back and yanks on his leg and manages to jerk it free just another inch. “They’ll be able to see us soon.”

  I crawl to his other side and pull on the gate in the direction it opens. Maybe, just maybe I can move it another inch. I brace my feet on the stationary side and wrap my fingers through the chain link of the side that moves, and then I stretch out as hard as I can. The chain link digs into my fingers and I groan, but I push even more. The fence gives the smallest fraction.

  “I’m out!” Jack scrambles toward the building twenty feet away. Jack stands and cups his hands to his eyes as he looks into a window on one of the outbuildings. “It’s a storage shed,” he says, putting a hand to the door handle.

  I grab his arm and shake my head.

  “And it’s empty,” he says. He pulls open the door and steps inside. I follow him.

  With my trembling muscles, I manage to stumble to my knees. Jack takes a few limping steps, and we huddle on the ground as the gate begins to creak open again and the truck rumbles over the road next to us. Dust swirls up outside the window above us.

  After a few minutes we dare to move.

  The walls of the shed are lined with shelves. Bags of fertilizer and potting soil, spades, clay pots in stacks, and gardening gloves surround me. Dust motes drift through the sunlight filtering in through the windows. This is the kind of place Nell would love. I have to remind myself, though, that it’s for them and someone like me or Nell would have no place here.

  Jack rummages through the supplies and comes up with a couple of dirty water bottles. I snatch one out of his hand before he even has time to offer it to me. I pour the water down my throat and it crackles on the way down, burning for a moment before settling in and filling me up. I close my eyes and savor it.

  “Water never tasted so good. Much better than your drink of choice off the tunnel wa
lls.”

  I can finally smile again.

  Jack digs through a box and pulls up a pair of coveralls. “Think we could use these?”

  I shake my head. I don’t think a gardener would walk right into the hospital. Too out of place, I write on his hand. He carefully puts the clothes back the way he found them. I turn back to the shelves I was examining, when a gleam in the back corner catches my eye.

  In the corner is a metal grate. It is clean—almost too much so for such an earthy place—and two words are raised on the surface: Tunnel Access. I beckon Jack over. He scratches his cheek.

  “I wonder if all these buildings and the hospital are connected. They’re like ants burrowing around down there.”

  Only one way to find out. I brace myself to pull hard at the grate, but it swings open without even a squeak. I fall back and Jack catches me. He smiles.

  “I expected it to give you a bit more of a fight, too.”

  I walk to the edge of the square opening and peer down. Concrete steps lead down to a narrow hallway. Bulbs set inside protective covers line the hall as far as I can see. Just bricks and dim light. Nothing more, just like the tunnel we came from.

  Should we?

  Jack nods. “It’s our best bet. It will be easier than scurrying across the open like mice. And it will be easy to hear people coming.”

  Which means they’ll hear us too.

  “True.” Jack pulls me close and buries his face in my hair. “But I know you’ll plunge down there anyway, so I’m not going to think about whether or not anyone can hear us.”

  I hold him close, suddenly aware what he just realized—we’re going into the lion’s den. What do we do?

  Jack holds my face in his hands, his eyes searching mine for fear. He’ll find it in spades, but that doesn’t matter now. Nell and Red are right in front of us, and we have to save them.

  “You mean once we’re inside?”

  I nod.

  Jack turns to look down the tunnel, still keeping a hand on my cheek. “Find a doctor’s uniform, I think. Scrubs or a doctor’s coat. Anything to make it look like we belong there. I know enough about medicine that I’m sure I can play the part. You could be a patient. That way no one will expect you to say a word.”

  I bristle at the insinuation—that patients are nonentities—but it’s true, the way the government sees us. We’re commodities, nothing more. The only thing we’re good for is slave labor and experimentation. Jack sees the look in my eyes.

  “Don’t waste that energy on me. You’ll need it later.”

  I suck in a breath and close my eyes. He’s right. I’ll need all my energy for what’s ahead of us. I put my foot on the first step. Jack touches my arm.

  “Let me go first.”

  I roll my eyes. I love the chivalrous side of him, but if one of us is going to get captured—or heaven forbid, killed—it should be me. Jack is too good and kind.

  He laughs. “I know, I know. You’re not going to listen to me. It was worth a try, though.”

  I squeeze his hand and take another step and head down into the tunnel.

  Chapter Seven

  I trail my fingers along the bricks as we go down, and I feel like I’m in a cave. The lights flicker every so often and cast long, wavering shadows down the corridor. There is nothing but red bricks on all sides of us and other brick corridors that lead away into darkness. I cling to the side of the passage. I feel like a rat in a maze down here, sniffing my way to the reward. Jack follows me so closely his breath is warm on my neck. I’ve been so used to treading lightly in the forest that the scuff scuff my shoes make on the floor hammers in my ears. Up ahead two tunnels fork off from this one, and I slow down. All the way from the train station, we never came across an intersection of tunnels, and the fact that I can’t see what lies around the corner unnerves me. My fingers creep along the wall toward the corner, and I’m ready to peek around and down the passage next to us, when Jack grabs my arm and yanks me back. He puts a finger to his lips.

  I hear voices.

  A man and a woman, but I can’t make out their words. They speak just above a whisper, and their voices float toward us from the tunnel I almost looked down. Jack and I flatten against the wall and I barely breathe. Another sound comes—the creak of wheels. The man raises his voice.

  “I told them he couldn’t withstand much more. We may have an unlimited supply of test subjects, but if we seriously damage each one just at the verge of a breakthrough, we’ll never succeed. The schedule is too rigorous; surely the president can see that.”

  The woman snorts. “And do you want to go to the government island and tell her?”

  The footsteps and wheels stop. The man clears his throat. “Please don’t tell anyone I said anything.”

  “You honestly think I would? Why do you think I prefer the tunnels? I don’t like my every word recorded by a watcher.” The wheels and footsteps resume. “I don’t know how I ever got myself into this mess.”

  The woman’s voice is close now. I turn my head, expecting to see her at any moment. There’s a click and a soft whoosh, and the tunnels are silent.

  Where? I ask Jack. His eyebrows turn down and he shakes his head. I wriggle free from his grasp and inch my head around the corner. All I see is a tunnel identical to this one.

  Gone, I tell him, and he creeps around me and stands in the open.

  “They can’t have disappeared.”

  I narrow my eyes and study the corridor. The walls are perfectly uniform except for there, just past the wire-caged light. A slight bump stands out. I touch it, and Jack comes over to look.

  “A door?”

  I nod. There’s nothing else it could be. I dig my fingers around all the edges, but I can’t see how to open it.

  “Are you sure you want to go in there? Those people could be in there and we’d have nowhere to go.”

  But I do want to get in. I need to see what’s inside. A door with no handle and no obvious way in just begs to be opened. Jack knows I’m not going to relent, and he joins me, his long fingers tracing the wall on either side, looking for a button or keypad. He puts a hand on the back of his neck.

  “I don’t know, Terra. Maybe it only opens from the inside.”

  How did they get in? I shake my head. There has to be another way. I push on the door with both hands and all my weight when it starts to slide left-to-right under my palms and a blast of warm air that smells like burning meat hits my cheeks. I jerk back and stare as the door slips away and I’m standing face-to-face with a man in a doctor’s coat. His mouth drops and his face pales, and he looks as surprised to see me as I am to see him.

  The closest I’ve come to a confrontation like this was with Smitty all those months ago in a mountain forest. I can still see his angular face rippling with shadows, and I can still feel the weight of the gun in my hands. I can never forget those things. I can never forget the small o of surprise on his mouth when I killed him. I want to close my eyes and shake the image from my mind, but my eyes are so dry right now as they’re riveted on the doctor that I don’t think they’ll ever close again.

  Then the same reflexes that pulled my finger tight around the trigger fly into action as my fingers curl into a fist and slam across his jaw. My knuckles feel like I just pummeled a rock, and both the doctor and I stagger back, but then he slumps to the floor and holds his face. Jack rushes in behind me and stands over the doctor. My eyes move to the woman just a few feet behind them. Then my eyes widen even more.

  The woman stands before a huge metal furnace. Her fingers have just closed a door and her other hand is frozen in the act of pushing hair away from her face. The heat has put roses in her cheeks. Her eyes stare at me, unblinking, like she’s not even sure I’m there. Her mouth slips open and she gapes.

  “Who are you?” Her voice is no more than a whisper.

  I’m so used to the agents, the soldiers, the people like Dr. Benedict who take so much pleasure in hurting us. The fear that riddles this wom
an’s entire posture is such a surprise to me that I can’t move. Jack steps forward.

  “We need his doctor’s coat.” He nods to the doctor on the floor. The doctor still whimpers and doesn’t move.

  The woman’s hand moves from the door. I notice a gurney beside her. A rumpled sheet drapes half of it, and there’s an impression on the thin mattress still. A human shape. My eyes flick to the furnace. Then a howl escapes my lips.

  “What?” Jack asks.

  I point to the gurney and to the furnace, and the gears click into place for him. His eyes narrow on the woman.

  “What is the furnace for?”

  She shifts her weight and looks at the floor. Her shoulders slump. “For the patients.”

  “Please tell me they’re dead first.”

  She looks up at him, and her eyes are shining with tears. “Of course they’re dead. I would never. . . . I could never do such a thing. They may all be monsters up there. You might think I’m a monster, and maybe you’re right.” She puts a hand out and limps to the wall, bracing herself there. She looks like a breeze could knock her over. “I’m no better than any of them.”

  I glance at Jack. Who?

  “Who are you?” he asks.

  “Just a physician’s assistant. I’m no one important. Of course I’m no one important. That’s why they gave me this job.” Her voice wavers over the last two words, and she puts a hand to her mouth. All the color has drained out of her. “I went to school to learn how to heal people. Not to do this.”

  “Who’s he?” Jack looks down at the doctor.

  “The doctor I’m assigned to. To make sure this gets done.”

  The man finally stirs. “Shut up!” he snaps at the woman. He points a finger at her. “You don’t even know who they are. Nomads by the look of them.” His eyes rake all over me as he rubs his jaw. “And you just asked for trouble. Did you really think you could get into the hospital? And what’s your plan this time? A bomb? A raid? Kill the chief medical official? You nomads are all the same. Pathetic, weak, and shortsighted. And you all end up the same way. Burned to ash.”

  It may be the heat from the furnace or it may be the man’s words, but I fly into such a fury that I don’t even realize what I’m doing until Jack’s voice is in my ear and his hands are on my arms pulling me back. I look down, and the doctor moans once and then loses consciousness. My knuckles are bleeding. I fold my arms, burying my fists, and lean against Jack.