by Cady Vance
She gives us a nod of satisfaction and pulls open the door, wincing at the clunk of the steel handle. The sound echoes down the stairwell. Clunk, clunk, clunk. After I follow Florence inside, I glance around. It’s a long, silent hallway, but this floor hasn’t been cleaned out as extensively as the one below. Cheerful blossoms of flowers don the wall in generic picture frames. Like that would make any insomniac feel at home here.
My fingers shake in Lucas’s hand. He squeezes tight and gives me a sad, knowing look. This floor is too familiar, too much a reminder of those horrible days and nights spent with doctors poking at me and prying and sticking things on my skin.
“Well, I guess we’re in the right place if I decide to die anytime soon.” I choke out a laugh, a sound that is hollow to my ears. I swallow, my tongue sticking to the roof my very dry mouth. I want to get out of here.
“I’m not going to let you die.” Lucas’s fierce, blazing eyes bore into my own, and a part of me can’t help but believe him, even though there’s nothing he can really do to stop it if it happens.
“Come on, let’s try this way,” Florence says. We shift away from the stairwell. Another long stretch of closed doors greets us. Florence pushes one open, and instead of an empty room, the dark shape of a hospital bed hovers in the shadows. For a moment, my eyes play tricks on me. Shadows dance inside the room, twisting and turning in the air over the bed. And then it’s Odin’s body on the sheets. He’s writhing to the same tune the shadows are dancing to. I clamp my eyes shut. When I open them again, the hallucination is gone.
“You okay?” Lucas slides an arm around my waist for support, and my hallucinations are suddenly the last thing on my mind. I swallow and try not to focus on the way his hand is resting on my hip, how his fingers fit so perfectly there.
“Yeah,” I say. “Just…tired.”
Florence is already two doors ahead of us. I slide from Lucas’s embrace and take the opposite end of the hallway, opening and closing the doors, determined to make myself useful.
“What exactly are we looking for?” I shut the door to a room identical to every other one. Empty but for the white sheets left crisp and undisturbed on the twin hospital mattress. When Florence sends a sharp glance my way, I add, “Besides Aiden.”
Lucas swipes his fluffy hair off his forehead. “Operating rooms, an office, a computer, anything like that. We need data from the experiments.”
At the word experiments, I shudder.
“Nothing like that on this floor,” Florence strides over from her end of the hallway. She casts her eyes to the ground, crosses her arms over her chest and leans against a bulletin board decorated with cutout pumpkins and skeletons, as if they last updated this place for Halloween. It’s a relaxed pose, but I can tell it’s for show. Her arms quiver from the stress she’s failing to hide.
“One more floor?” I ask. “And then we’ll go to the next thumbtack on the map.”
“One more floor,” Lucas echos.
Florence tears her eyes from the checkered tile. She reaches into her pocket, and a moment later, I hear the blast of music from her earbuds as if she’s turned the volume up as high as it can go. “One more floor.”
Twenty-Four
Your child must not leave the region of your local Clinic without first alerting us of their trip.
- The Galvanism Handbook for Parents
The stairwell isn’t as creepy now that we’ve been through it once already. We ascend the stairs, push open the fire door and are met with another hallway of closed doors. Only this time, instead of the dark wood and bronzed numbers, the doors are gray steel and unmarked.
“This looks promising,” I say, moving to the first door and resting my hand on the cool, smooth metal. My fingers slide to the handle, and I push down. Click. “It’s locked.”
I turn to ask Florence to work her magic, but she’s backed up against the wall, her eyes darting from corner to corner. Apparently, I’m not the only one with bad memories of these places.
“Florence?” Lucas rests a hand on her shoulder.
She blinks and steps away from the wall.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She throws her hair over her shoulder and walks over to where I’m standing by the door. Her blond strands are like a wedding train behind her. “This place reminds me of…”
“Nightmares,” I finish for her.
She looks at me frankly, her mask of composure now firmly back in place. “Pretty much.” After turning down her iPod volume, she jostles the handle of the door. “Now what do we have here?”
“Wait,” Lucas says. “We can’t go breaking into all these locked rooms.” He gestures down the long hall. “There’s loads of them.”
“I thought you were all anxious to find shit,” Florence says.
“I am,” he says slowly. “But breaking into every room, plus searching them, could take a rather long time. We need to hurry so we sort out where Aiden is.”
“I hope you have a plan,” I say, wondering if the only thing he’s banking on is blind luck.
He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, tilting his head back to stare up at the ceiling lights. “You’re going to think this is a bit weird.”
“Weirder than the fact we’ve all been brought back to life?” Florence cocks her head to the side.
“No, I gather it isn’t.” After a long pause, he pulls a small remote control device from his pocket and holds it up with a weak smile on his face.
“Is that some kind of detonator?” Florence asks. “Are you going to bomb the doors open?”
Lucas’s worried expression drops away. He laughs out loud, eyes sparkling. “Wouldn’t that be brilliant? No, no. This, well. I can turn up my hearing with this.”
“Say again?” Florence says.
“Oh,” I say, suddenly understanding and not understanding at the same time. I picture him listening at the door out front, listening for footsteps on the streets, listening, listening, listening. I wait for him to explain because this is way too close to the robot thing for comfort.
“The Clinic put some sort of bloody device in my ears about a year ago. Basically, it amplifies my hearing. I’ve never had any hearing problems. They did it for shits and giggles, didn’t they? They gave me this thing so I can control how loudly I hear things. Usually, I keep it slightly higher than a normal bloke’s hearing, but still low enough I don’t go mental…” He trails off and avoids my gaze, clearly embarrassed by his confession.
“That’s interesting.” Florence raises her eyebrows.
“Right? Last straw. I went on the search for the Cafe after that. At first, I was rather chuffed about my new toy. It was meant to amplify my hearing, and it did. But it was also really intense at first. Everything was louder. I could hear myself breathing, swallowing, everything. Chewing was tremendously unpleasant. I got used to it after a bit, but…”
“You can’t turn it off?” I ask.
“No. I can’t even turn it down to normal hearing level. I can turn it way, way up, but I can never get my proper hearing back.”
Florence’s face drains of all color. “Dude, I’d be digging that shit out of my ear canal.”
Lucas gives her a wry smile. “Already tried that. It’s too far inside there, and I’m not about to shove in a needle and accidentally pierce my eardrum.”
I wince. “Did they tell you why they did it?”
“No.” His voice drops low, almost to a growl. “Other than I’m some kind of experiment. I’m not the only one.” He turns to Florence. “There’s something I haven’t mentioned because I didn’t want to worry you.”
“That’s always a sentence you want to hear.” She laughs likes it’s a joke, but I can see her jaws clenching together so hard her teeth might shatter.
“Last week, we found out from our insider that the Clinics were planning on doing some experiments on a few of the insomniacs they found tonight. It’s scheduled for the start of the work day tomorrow. Well, today really. In a few hours. It’
s partly why I’ve felt the need to help you so much and why I want to help get Aiden out of there.” Lucas sighs and looks very, very tired. Wearier than a person should ever look. I must look that way, too. “I know what it’s like to be one of their experiments. It’s like they think that since they keep us alive, they have some sort of right to our bodies.”
“But we didn’t ask for this.” My voice echoes through the empty halls. Ask for his, ask for this, ask for this. It repeats, thundering in my ears.
“So, let’s take them down,” Florence says. “Starting with Lucas and his superhero ears finding inside info. Then, you better believe we’re busting our friend out of that hellhole.”
“Right.” Lucas nods. “We need data, so we need a computer. As I’m sure you’re aware, machines make noise when they’re on. I’ll turn up the volume…of my hearing…and listen through the doors. If I hear the hum of a machine, we’ll go in that one. Sounds a bit brilliant, eh?”
“What if the machines aren’t on?” I ask. “I mean, this building is empty.”
“The lights are still on,” Florence points out.
“And I’m rather certain they’d leave the computers alive. All the Clinics are networked together. If they’ve left the machines running, they could get access to the hard drives without having to take a trip down here.”
I shrug. “Worth a shot.”
Lucas hovers an index finger over his hearing controller. “Could you be as quiet as possible while I have this shite turned up? Things at high volume drive me mad.”
“You got it, friend,” Florence says in time with my nod. I pull my fingers across my lips in the universal sign for zipping them shut.
Lucas takes a slow, deep breath, like he’s storing up all the oxygen he needs before blasting his eardrums with sound. He turns a nob on his device and winces before becoming a statue of stillness. A second later, he slowly leans his ear against the door and listens. Quickly, he pulls away and shakes his head, pointing down the hall.
My slippers slide on the tile as we move to the next door, reminding me of the place I escaped only hours before now. We stop at the next door and Florence gently pushes down on the handle. When it resists like the last one did, Lucas leans forward, listens and pulls away. We move to door after door until we’re almost to the end of the hallway. I can see the sagging of Lucas’s shoulders, the disappointed frown on Florence’s face. I’m not feeling particularly optimistic myself.
Lucas leans his head against yet another identical door, but this time he gasps. He quickly pulls back and twists down his hearing, and by the time he opens his mouth to speak, Florence is practically bouncing on her feet.
“Did you hear something? What’s in there?” Florence grins.
Lucas grins back. “There is definitely a machine on in there. Florence, go to town on that lock.”
She attacks the handle with renewed gusto, and moments later we’re inside. Unease shudders through me at the sight of a very familiar surgical room, and I clench my hands into fists. The room is large, bright and sparkling, but nothing about it is happy. The overhead lights gleam on the steel surfaces of long, chilly operating tables. Instruments of surgery are laid out in careful precision.
I cough hard and slam my hand against the wall to steady myself from the sudden swimming in my head. A threatening machine squats in the corner. Wire arms spin out from its stomach. At the end of each one, a suction cup reaches out. I feel like they’re reaching for me.
“Sit down, Thora,” my dad says from his perch on the leather sofa.
I feel myself collapse onto the ottoman, anxiety throbbing against my tired eyes. My mom’s lips are tight, and she keeps flicking her gaze away. This can’t be good.
“I’ve been trying,” I say. “I have a history test next week. I’ve already started studying.”
“This time, it isn’t about history.”
My heart skips a beat. What could it be now?
My mom clears her throat. “The problem is, Thora, before you burst in today, Doctor Clark told me he saw you and Gemma in the middle of the night, running the Clinic hallways. When he found the broken window, he was fairly upset about the vandalism. He didn’t think you two would ever do such a thing. At a place that helps you.”
I look away. Shit, shit, shit. We were seen.
Dad’s voice booms, and I jump. “Gemma’s parents have been informed, of course, and they’re sending her to a Clinic in New York. To separate you two. They think our daughter is a bad influence. I’m inclined to agree.”
“We’re very disappointed in you, Thora,” my mom says. “We think it’s time we send you to the Clinic, too, especially since you’re on the cusp of Stage Four. Doctor Clark’s willing to take you even after what you did.”
Gemma. Moving. Clinic. My body starts shuddering, and I feel tears pricking my eyes, but I blink my lids so fast, so fast, so fast. I can’t let them see me cry.
“It was my idea, Dad.” Odin suddenly appears behind them.
I try to tell him to stop with my eyes, but he ignores me, moving around the couch to stand in front of them.
“I was there, too. Doctor Clark didn’t see me.”
My mom gasps. “Odin? I never thought you would do such a thing.”
“Don’t punish Thora for something that was my idea.” He curls his hands into fists at his sides.
My dad lets out a long sigh, and I grip the sides of the ottoman waiting for what he’ll say next.
“Very well,” he says. “Odin, we need to have a chat. Thora, we won’t send you to the Clinic yet. We’ll see how you do on that history test next week. Then, we’ll talk.”
Flashes of memories light up behind my swollen eyes. Memories of sharp, stabbing pains shooting through my skin, through my flesh and into my bloodstream. I feel the urge to cry out even though it isn’t happening now. I can still feel it. I will always feel it.
“Please tell me that’s not the machine you hear,” I whisper to Lucas. I can’t manage to speak any louder.
“No,” he says. “That machine isn’t on. You can relax. No one is going to hook you up to that.”
“Unless I die.” My mouth is dry. I don’t know how much longer I can stand here staring at that thing. Even though I know what it does now, I can’t stand to look at it.
“Alright, that’s it,” Florence says, coming to stand in front of me, blocking my view of the monstrosity glaring at me from the corner. “We’re not going to call it dying anymore.” When I open my mouth to argue, she cuts me off. “No. Listen, I’m as freaked out about it as you are. Trust me. But we can’t keep worrying about when we’re going to die, especially when it isn’t the same for us. Every time we call it that, they win. Besides, everyone dies. Everyone.”
“I know that,” I say. “But it’s not normal. What we do isn’t natural.”
“What are you saying?” Lucas asks.
I shake my head hard, bright red strands of hair falling across my cheeks. “I don’t know.” I shut my eyes and squeeze them as hard as I can, until I see specks of white against my lids. “I just…I don’t want to die, but…I don’t see why I should be brought back if I do. Nevermind. I’m wasting our time. We need to get this stuff and get out of here.”
“Stop.” Lucas moves in front of me now, but I don’t look up to meet his eyes. I’m scared of what I will find there. “You can’t think like that. Your body shuts down, sure, but this isn’t a normal death, really. It’s like you need to be recharged.”
My eyes fly open. “Like we’re machines or something. Robots.”
“We aren’t machines,” Lucas says, eyes peering intently into my very core. And with him looking at me like that, I find myself wanting to believe him, wanting to think this life we have is okay. Well, not okay. It will never be okay. But something I have to accept if I want to keep living. I’m reminded once again of who I’ve lost, of how he’ll never have a chance to grow up and live his life. I don’t want that. Even if I can’t quite grasp everythin
g right now, or come to terms with what I am and how I really tick, I have to go on. Because that’s what life is. Moving forward.
So, I stare right back into Lucas’s bright eyes and nod. “Okay.”
“Good. Now,” he says, spinning around, “we need that little machine over there.” He points to the corner where a white monitor hovers near a box of disposable needles. A little red light blinks underneath a blank screen.
We move over to the monitor, Lucas glancing around for some kind of keyboard.
“I bet it’s a touch screen,” I say, lightly poking the screen. It flares to life under my fingers, displaying a basic computer desktop covered with icons sitting in neat little rows. I smile and scan the icons. “So, what are we looking for? Light Controls, Radiation Controls, Monitors, Records, Voltaic Data.”
Lucas rubs his hands together. “Oh, this is all rather intriguing, and it would be brilliant if I could look at every single bit of it, but let’s go with Voltaic Data.”
I tap the icon, and the screen goes black.
“Um,” I say.
A moment later, an open folder appears on the screen, full of dozens of spreadsheet and document icons. I squint, reading the names of a few, but it all seems like gibberish to me. Combinations of letters and numbers and underscores. I shake my head and look to Lucas who is nibbling on his bottom lip.
“They’re using some sort of naming convention we’re not going to understand.” Florence leans over my shoulder and hovers a nail above the screen. “See how they all have letters for the first few, then an underscore, then some more letters, then another underscore, and then this last part looks like the date.”
“Yeah, that makes sense.” I scan the filenames again, and while I don’t quite grasp what they mean, it doesn’t read so alien anymore. “This must be the latest document created.” I point to the section Florence pointed out as the date.