by Cady Vance
“We need somewhere safe to talk, right?” Florence whispers, finally pulling her eyes down.
“Right,” Lucas says. “And that lad could backtrack at any minute when he realizes we haven’t gone that way.”
“Up.” Florence points at the sky. “We can definitely get onto the roof from this fire escape.”
I look up, realizing what Florence has been looking at this whole time. There is only one more flight of stairs, and the top of the fire escape platform hugs the building in such a way a normal person would be able to pull herself up onto the roof from it.
I am not a normal person.
Instead of voicing my weakness, I watch Florence inch up the stairs while Lucas keeps a sharp eye on the streets below, in case the Sleeper comes back before we make it onto the roof. I ease up the rickety stairs behind Florence, step after careful step, watching the roof’s ledge come closer and closer with dread pooling in my stomach. I’m not going to be able to do this. I’m too tired, too small, too weak.
When we reach the landing, Florence takes a quick hop, grabs onto the ledge and slowly pulls herself onto the roof. She makes it look so easy, but when she pops her head over the side to look down at me, I can see her glistening face is as red as my hair.
“Your turn,” she says through her ragged breaths, her long blond strands dangling over the side of the building.
I slowly shake my head.
“Don’t be a baby,” she snaps. “You can do it, Thora.”
Something about her tone gives me the will to at least try. I’ve been babied all my life by the doctors, by my teachers, by my friends, by my brother, and even by my parents no matter how awful they were about everything else. Rest, Thora, they’d say. Let me do that for you, Thora, they’d say. You’re too weak, Thora, they’d say.
It’s never been, You can do it, Thora. Until now.
With a new resolve I’ve never known I have, I bend my knees all the way to a ninety degree angle and jump high, grabbing the ledge with shaking fingers. I almost cry out in pain when the bricks cut into my skin, but I bite my lip and hold on as tight as I can. Slowly, with burning and trembling arms, I pull myself up and up and up until my chin can rest on the surface of the ledge. My slippered feet dig into the wall to take hold and keep me from collapsing back onto the platform below me. I squeeze my eyes tight and huff out a few breaths, trying to find the strength within me to keep going.
“Lucas,” Florence hisses, and I hear the metal stairs shaking as he rushes up them. But before he can reach me, I pull, my belly plastered against the building. My feet dig in harder, kicking up like I’m attempting to run up the wall. I hear and feel my shirt rip, and a new pain stabs my belly as the rough brick cuts into me. But I keep going, and suddenly, my waist hits the top of the ledge, and I am bending over the top of the building, my legs now dangling out below me. My head spins; I gasp for breath. Strong hands encircle my feet and push them up and over the side. I roll over, back flat against the roof and stare up at the darkness. I did it.
Shaking, I stand. I am higher and stronger than I’ve been in my entire life even though my head feels woozy and sweat is pouring down my face. I glance around, seeing downtown New York City spread out before me, and I feel as if I am up in the clouds. No. I feel as if I am one of the clouds myself.
Lucas appears by my side, out of breath just like me. “Thora, you should have waited for me to help.”
“No,” I say, meeting Florence’s knowing gaze. “I needed to do it myself.”
He shakes his head, staring at me with unmasked wonder. “You keep on surprising me.”
“Speaking of,” I say, turning to my blond friend. ““Florence? What was that all about? Why did you have a rope with a rock tied to it in your bag? Does this have anything to do with that man knowing you at the grocery store?”
Florence cringes, and a flicker of something resembling embarrassment crosses her darkly painted features before it falls away, replaced by a flash of that wicked smile I’ve seen only one other person perfect so well. “Promise you won’t judge.”
“Okay. I won’t judge.” It’s a hard promise to make, not knowing what she’ll tell me, but I’d like to think the insomniac bond goes a little deeper than most things. So, I vow to myself not to judge her, no matter what it is.
“I’m a thief.” She says it frankly without meeting my gaze. I blink in surprise and think back to the grocery store. All the gears begin shifting together in my mind as I replay the night’s events. Sneaking into the storage room, running from the angry store owner who recognized her, scaling a fire escape.
“Want to ditch me now?” Florence looks up and meets my gaze with a fiery challenge in her eyes.
“No, of course not,” I say, meaning it. “You’ve saved my ass twice now.”
“Good.” She faces away to stare out at the city lights but not before I see her relief. “I only do the theft thing because I have to, you know. My parents spent all their money on the Clinic, trying to make me better. So, we’re poor as fuck. And I…I don’t know. Sometimes it’s easier to take the damn food than to buy it. And this?” She holds up her ever-present iPod. “We can’t afford something like this.” She fiddles with the controls, her voice falling into a whisper. “So, I took one.”
And if Florence didn’t have her music, I honestly think she’d have some issues coping with reality. My heart squeezes at the thought.
“You didn’t have to explain, friend.” I borrow the nickname she’s used for me, hoping it’ll make her see I really don’t care what’s in her past. Whatever we’ve been through before tonight doesn’t matter. The past is the past, and with the way things have gone so far, we might need her skills again before this night is over. With Aiden gone, we have no money.
“Yeah, well, I was hoping I could have a better life at the Cafe, you know?” She frowns down at the roof. “I thought my parents could have a better life, too, without having to worry about Clinic payments anymore. Now, it’s all fucked up.”
“You’ll still get your better life. Both of you will. You bloody well believe I won’t stand for anything else.” Lucas reaches over and weaves his fingers through mine. My still-ragged breath hitches, and I try to force myself to act nonchalant about the fact Lucas is holding my hand. But I can’t. My eyes flick sideways, and I see he’s looking right back. My entire face floods with lava. A light smile plays at his lips, and I have to look away before I’m burned to nothing but ash.
“Do you think Aiden is okay?” Florence whispers so low I’m not quite sure I heard her.
I turn to Florence and see she’s frowning out at the maze of buildings. Even at this late hour, lit-up windows dot the landscape of brick and steel. “I don’t know.”
“Here,” Lucas says, gesturing to the edge of the building. “Let’s sit.”
We sit on either side of him, and I take off my slippers, letting my feet hang over the side of the building. My body groans underneath me as I finally let myself relax, the adrenaline that has been pushing me this past hour vanishing from my blood at the lack of overwhelming danger. It leaves me feeling dizzier than ever.
Lucas leans back on his hands and sighs. “I’m sure you have loads of questions, and I’ve never explained this to anyone before, but I’ll do my best.”
For the first time since he’s said he’s an insomniac, reality sinks in. He’s going to tell us. Someone is finally going to give me answers. I am less than two seconds away from finding out the truth about my ‘condition’, and I’ve never felt more terrified in my life.
“I’m going to warn you. You may find it a bit shocking. I know I did.” He sighs and shakes his head. Each beat of my heart seems to hinge on Lucas, on his words. The image of metallic, inhuman robots flashes over and over and over in my head. “Right. No more stalling. What you are, what I am…Well…have you ever heard of galvanism?”
My heart thumps hard. “Galvanism?” I glance to Florence, and her quizzical expression matches my own feeli
ngs. “No.”
Lucas nods and runs his hands through his hair, leaving the dark fluffy strands in a wavy mess. “It’s a scientific method of using electricity to, well, uh…Basically, it’s used to restore life. To restart the heart.”
“What?” My voice comes out a squeak, and Florence’s already pale face goes completely white. Electricity. Restart the heart. He can’t be saying what it sounds like he’s saying. Still, my fingernails dig into my jeans, their sharp edges piercing through the denim and into my legs.
“Gabe is so much better at this. I’m sorry I’m rubbish.” He gives me a sad smile. “Basically, at some point in our lives, usually when we were very young, there was an accident we didn’t exactly survive. Our parents were able to save us with this very expensive and very secretive procedure. We’d have to have died in the hospital because they have to perform the surgery very quickly so we don’t have complete brain damage.”
My head is stuffed with cotton balls. The car crash Odin and I were both in when I was ten. “Are you saying, are you saying I…died?” Tears sting my eyes, and I’m overwhelmed by the intense need to run again. Even as tired as I am, I want to get away from the words spilling from his mouth. I didn’t die. I haven’t been brought back to life. I close my eyes tight but the words are still there, echoing inside my brain.
“I know it’s a lot to take in, and I’m sorry I had to be the one to tell you.”
Florence speaks for the first time since Lucas dropped this bomb on us. “I don’t understand what that has to do with insomnia. If this is true, why can’t we sleep?”
“There are side effects to the procedure. The insomnia is one of them. I don’t want to start throwing around medical terms, but basically, because of the intense electrical currents that are regularly passed through us, we’ve all developed an advanced case of hyperthyroidism. That and the neurotransmitter in our brain that controls sleep has been damaged.”
“Hyperthyrodism?” Florence says. “What the hell is that? And how do you even know all this?”
“I know because the people at the Cafe have figured it all out. They’ve been working toward finding this information for years.” He shifts on the roof and places a palm over one of my hand-turned-claws. I finally let my grip on my jeans loosen a bit, though I still feel on the edge of hysteria. “As for hyperthyroidism, it’s called that because we have an overactive thyroid from the electricity. It causes insomnia, fatigue, difficulty concentrating, pale skin, increased appetite, weakness, heart palpitations.” He meets my eyes. “Sound familiar?
“Oh my god.” Florence groans and drops her head into her hands. “I’m a dead person. An actual zombie. I knew it was something like this. I knew it had to be.”
“You’re not dead. You are very much alive. Your heart is beating. You’re breathing air into your lungs.”
“One thing, friend,” Florence says. “How does this explain our little magnetic cupcake test?”
“Right.” He blows out a windstorm of air. “With our research, we developed a iron-like substance that interacts with our high metabolism and the extra electrical currents inside our bodies. It very, very temporarily makes us, and only us, slightly magnetic, which is how that test works out rather well and proves you’re an insomniac. I know it sounds a bit mad, but there you go.”
“This is just…beyond mad,” Florence says.
“Wait a minute.” I pull my hand out from under his and hold it up between us as a new fear rolls through me, pushing aside thoughts of cupcakes and magnets for now. “You said regular electrical currents. You said regular.”
He nods solemnly, and at that moment, I want all this to go away. Even though I’ve wanted to know this information for as long as I can remember, I suddenly don’t want to hear any more. It’s too much. It doesn’t even make sense to me. It sounds like a bad horror movie plot.
“You’re not going to like this one either, I’m afraid,” he continues. “I don’t even know how to say this.”
“Just say it,” Florence says.
“Right. Well, basically, when we Collapse, it’s our body shutting down because it’s been running too long. Our heart stops. We need another treatment. It’s why they want us Clinic-bound when we reach Stage Four. It’s much more likely to happen then, and if we don’t get the treatment within a matter of time, we won’t get enough oxygen to the brain, and then…” He clears his throat. “They’ve done something to our brain that gives us a little more time than normal people, hence the scar back there.” He pauses to tap the back of his head where Odin and I both have identical scars. “But it’s still no more than half an hour. So, that’s why we need the treatments. Our bodies just can’t…keep going without help.”
Help. He means restarting our hearts. My hands shake harder than a car jerking across a rocky mountain ledge as I reach up and place my fingers against my pounding forehead. So many hammers banging my skull. So many. Will they ever stop?
“So, you’re saying earlier when I almost Collapsed that I almost died.” I shake my head slowly, finally understanding everything, finally seeing the truth for what it is. “I almost died. And I still feel like I’m going to Collapse within the next twenty-four hours. Which means…which means I’m going to die soon.”
Twenty
This treatment will save your child’s life, though there are side effects necessitating regular check-ups and, if they progress, extended time at one of our Clinics.
- The Galvanism Handbook for Parents
What do you mean?” Lucas looks at me sharply. “You almost Collapsed. When? What stage are you?”
“At the internet cafe,” Florence whispers, staring at me with wide, fearful eyes. I want to tell her to stop looking at me like that. Like I’m a dead girl already. Maybe I am.
“I’m a Stage Four.”
“Bloody hell.” He stands and starts pacing back and forth across the roof. Sharp gravel crunches under his feet. “And you’ve been running around and climbing ladders and scaling walls and this whole time you’ve been close to Collapsing. Why didn’t you tell me!”
I shudder and tears spring into my eyes. “I didn’t know that meant I was about to die.”
At the waver in my voice, he stops pacing and falls back onto the roof. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just a bit worried, Thora.” He brushes red strands out of my eyes, blown there by the cool breeze. “Probably not as much as you.” He shakes his head and mutters something to himself under his breath. “Right. It’ll be fine. You haven’t Collapsed yet, and if the worst case scenario happens, I’ll make sure you get treatment. Okay?”
I press my palms even harder against my forehead, hoping if I push hard enough, the jackhammers will give me a moment’s peace. “But how? What do you do when someone Collapses at the Cafe? It has to happen sometimes, right? I can’t go back to the Clinic, Lucas. I just can’t.”
“It does happen, though it’s rare at the Cafe since we have a way to sleep.” He pulls my shaking hands from my forehead and wraps his fingers around mine. “We’ve gotten to a few people on the inside. Sometimes they help us when they can.”
“What do you mean you’ve gotten to people on the inside?” Florence asks. “Sounds like something off Law and Order.”
“Yeah, it’s a bit like that. The Cafe likes to call them sympathizers. People who work at a Clinic but feel rather shite about what’s being done to us.”
“But how did you even find them?” I ask. “You can’t waltz into a Clinic, can you?”
Lucas shines his mischievous, goofy grin at me, and I feel my heart lift despite all this new intense information clouding my thoughts. “I’m not wearing this disguise to hide my insomnia for the fun of it. Why do you think I was at The Strand? I’ve been pretending to be one of them. I haven’t gotten into a Clinic yet, but I like to think I’m close.” He frowns. “Though I believe tonight changed things.”
“So, let me get this straight.” Florence bounces up to her feet and stands glarin
g down at Lucas, her hands clenched into fists at her side. “I thought the Sleepers worked for the Clinic as some weird sort of security team?”
“They work for them, yes.”
“I don’t understand.” Her blond hair billows around her as she shakes her head. “If the people at the Clinic are the ones keeping us alive, why would they attack us? Why would they hurt us?” She flicks her gaze at me, and I know she’s thinking about my brother. Like I am. “Seems counterproductive to me.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” I say.
“It’s simple, really. Out on our own, we may end up hurting ourselves.” He shoots a pointed look at me, but then sadness fills his eyes. “I don’t have a good explanation for what they did to Odin. I’ve been puzzling over that one since it happened, but I can’t work out anything that makes sense.”
“Why have they never told us this?” I ask, changing the subject. “Why don’t they want us to know? I mean, it’s not like our parents don’t know.” My guts twist at the realization that my parents knew all along and never told me, even when they saw how much I needed answers.
“Thora, your grades are getting worse and worse. We can’t stand for you to be slacking off so much!” My dad’s voice booms against my eardrums.
“She can’t help it.” Odin’s voice sounds angrier than my dad’s. If that’s even possible. “She’s doing the best she can!”
“Well, it’s not good enough.”
“That, I don’t know either.”
A silence blankets us as I try to process everything Lucas is saying. I try to make myself feel better about the fact we aren’t robots or aliens or anything worse than that after all. We’re very much human. Damaged, but human. I sigh and look out across the darkening city. There aren’t as many bright windows now, and I can’t help but feel the dying lights are a perfect match to how I feel inside.
Even though a part of me feels relieved to discover I really am human, I’m scared as hell by what my condition is. Ha, condition. That one word isn’t big enough for something that means I’ve died at least ten times.