by Annie Oldham
“Don't know. It's weird the pattern of who gets them and who doesn't. Not everyone does.”
I'm a nomad. I needed inoculations.
“Not a good enough reason,” Madge says, taking a bite of bread. “Most people here were nomads, and not everyone gets them.”
But before I can work past the tears to try to puzzle it out, two soldiers approach our table and we fall silent.
“Worker 7488?” one says. With those masks on, I have no idea who they're looking at. No wonder Madge imagined them as insects too. Then I realize the number comes after mine. It would have to be Mary.
“Yes?” She doesn't look up from her stew. It's all she can do to keep an ounce of civility in her voice.
“Come with us to the medical area.”
Mary's eyes dart to me. “Think I'll get some of the crazy juice?”
Madge snorts into her stew, and I grin. We try to wipe it clean off our faces—the soldiers shift their weight, looking like they're ready to pounce—and Mary jumps up to appease them.
She runs a hand over her scalp and says, “Lead on, boys.”
We watch her walk out the door, and I wonder if she'll be crying into her pillow tonight or imagining the soldiers are some kind of insect. What other varieties of injections are there? The tears start flowing again when I realize it's just a matter of time until I find out.
As soon as the door of our cell closes, Jane sits on the bunk, draws her knees up, and announces, “I have a theory about the shots.”
I pull the pillow off my bed, and sit on it on the floor against the wall opposite her. I nod for her to continue.
“I've never had a single shot.”
Why?
She shrugs her shoulders. “Because I don't think they ever saw me as a threat. I'm too small and too skinny and too broken. They didn't need me. But they need you. The same way they need Madge and Mary. They see it in you, the anger and distrust. They're trying to force our loyalty.”
My eyebrows shoot up and Jane half-smiles.
“I know—it sounds so out there. Injections to make us loyal.” She tucks her hair behind her ears and leans forward, and the earnestness on her face tells me she's thought about this. A lot. “Think about it though. They've made you hallucinate and they've made you cry. I've seen other people get horrible paranoia or turn so mean they're like different people. If they can do that with a shot, why couldn't they find one that will make us trust them? They just haven't gotten it right yet.”
She could be on to something. Her words stir a memory in my brain, something I had forgotten in the midst of one of the most awful nights of my life. Between being chased by soldiers and running for my life with Jack, I had forgotten what the agent said to me as the cloying sweetness of his breath mint washed over me. Trust is always an issue. I shouldn't tell you this, of course, but seeing as you have no future left, I think it's safe. The trust is what we're working on.
Is this what he meant? They know how hopelessly messed up their system of government is, so they're not trying to engender trust and loyalty. They're trying to force it upon us. I have to ask Jack. He'll know if it's possible. But a small part of me already knows it's true without even having to ask. It terrifies me, and I feel the urgency of escape more powerfully than ever. I have to get them all out before the government does find a way to force them into being loyal. They deserve to make their own choices and not have that one last remaining right taken away.
The anthem begins again, and I climb up next to Jane. I remember a lesson in Burn History. Mr. Klein stood at the front of the room and showed us a picture of the flag that the United States used before the Event. It was simple but beautiful. I loved the pattern of red and white, and I was especially drawn to the stars. I had no stars then, and anything from the heavens captured me. Then he played a recording of their old anthem, with words about the flag still standing even though their nation was being ripped apart by war. It was moving in a way I hadn't felt before, and I knew then I wanted to meet some of the people who belonged to such a strong heritage.
The anthem now is so slow it feels like a funeral dirge. How can they hope for people to trust them if every time I hear the music all I can think about is death?
Chapter Thirteen
I gather two more vials before the next yard time. I steal the first when Dr. Benedict says he needs to have a follow-up to check on my face. He prods the bruises and I wince, but he says there's no bone damage and the contusions are healing nicely. Luckily the never-ending tears only lasted until the middle of the night, and then I finally stopped crying and fell asleep. I'd be mortified if I had to sit on this exam table sobbing while he examined me. He asks about side effects from the injection, of course. I tell him it made me sad. I don't want to talk about much more than that. It might be his unreadable black eyes, but he looks disappointed when I tell him about the depression. I shake it off to not knowing him well enough. When he goes back to his office to get his tablet, I grab a vial as quickly as I can and tuck it into my pants.
I still haven't solved the problem of the keycard.
Drugging the agents and the soldiers won't matter if we can't even get out of our cells. Sure we could all have a laugh that they're seeing themselves as snakes or crying uncontrollably, but escaping is the only thing that will get us away from their needles and their psychological abuse. It's only a matter of time until their scientists perfect a serum that will make us all mindless followers. We have to get out.
Dr. Benedict comes back and makes a few notes. I look at his side, and his keycard is missing. I grab his hand. He smiles at my touch, his black eyes softening, and then he realizes I want to spell something.
Keycard is gone.
He looks down, and the closest thing I've seen to panic reaches his eyes. He pats his pocket and leaves the room. I hear him rummaging around in his desk, and he returns a minute later with his keycard once again clipped to his belt.
“Thank you, Terra. You scared me for a minute there. You know, I keep a spare in my office—”
I perk up and scold myself. Don't act so interested.
“—but the agents might actually have me killed for losing one.”
He reaches out his hand again, and I think he just wants me to hold it. Instead I grab it and write, You're welcome. His smile turns down at the corners, but he recovers and the dimple returns to his cheek.
So that's the answer: I'll need to search his office. Great. And how am I supposed to find the time to do that? Maybe I don't have to do it alone; other people come in here. Mary's been started on the injections—though she refused to talk about what she went through yesterday. Kai comes in here for prenatal exams. We'll come up with a search plan, and one of us will find it.
“What are you thinking about?” Dr. Benedict asks. He has a bemused look on his face as he watches me.
Nothing, just reclamation.
“Well, it's nice to see you busy. Take care, Terra.”
I hop down from the exam table and as I walk to the exit, I glance in his office. Files, papers, medical equipment. It's a mess. It could take a while to find anything in there.
Eight days left.
The second vial comes a day later when I get another injection. Madge told Kai the escape plan yesterday, and she's all in. I'll give her the vials the morning of the escape. She works in the commissary before dinner, and she'll be able to put the serum into the agents' and soldiers' food.
“I know the risks,” she says when I raise my eyebrows and look at her belly. She's thirty-four weeks pregnant now, and I don't want to do anything to endanger her or the baby, but she's determined to help us.
I spend the next five minutes explaining to Jane, Kai, Madge, and Mary how Dr. Benedict has an extra keycard somewhere in his office.
Kai groans. “I've been in the medical area enough to know it won't be easy to find.”
I nod.
“What's wrong with the medical area?” Mary asks. After just one injection, she must
not have noticed the state of Dr. Benedict's office.
“It's an absolute wreck.” Kai chews a bite of pancake.
“Guess we better get busy.”
Then the soldiers come again to take Mary to the medical area, and from the determined set of her mouth, I know she's going to find some way to look for the keycard.
She hasn't returned yet before another set of soldiers comes for me. I could cry for real this time, thinking about the drugs coursing through my veins and turning me into something I'm not. But it means a chance at the office, and I can't pass that up. I sag a little bit between the soldiers, just enough that they think I'm compliant. I can't look at them, though—I can't hood my eyes the way Jane can, or the way Madge barely manages to—my eyes won't tell a single lie.
When I enter the medical area, Mary still sits in the injection room, and Dr. Benedict waves.
“Just sit in the waiting room please, Terra. I'll be done with Worker 7488 in just a moment.”
Mary raises an eyebrow. Am I the only one he's on a first-name basis with? Surely not, but it seems odd that he would call her by her worker number when he made such a big deal about names in front of my interrogation agent. Dr. Benedict doesn't seem fazed by the slip, though, as he consults his tablet. Mary shifts on the table so he has to turn his back on me to face her. I grin. She knows exactly what she's doing.
I slip into his office and start in the cabinets above his desk. Stacks of books. I look in between each one and flip through a few pamphlets, but nothing falls out. I close the cabinets with a soft click and as I do, I hear the sound of feet on linoleum. I drop down behind the desk. My breathing echoes in my ears. It's stupid, really. If he can't see me in here, it means I'm not out in the waiting room either, and then he'll think I'm running loose somewhere. Better that he sees me. I stand slowly, willing my heart to calm down.
“Doctor, could you look at my tracker injection site?” Mary calls. The steps pause.
“What's wrong with it?” His voice is detached and impersonal, the warmth completely sucked dry. He never sounds that way with me.
“It might be infected.”
I ease a breath out and look in the top drawer of his desk. Wadded up papers, pens, paperclips, a few markers. Nothing important, and I worry that the rustling of papers will bring him back. I listen as he scolds Mary.
“There's no trace of infection here, worker. Believe me, you'd know if it was infected. Don't waste my time with any more of this nonsense.”
Mary's voice is hard but controlled. “Sorry, doctor.”
I scurry from the office and find a seat in the waiting area. Dr. Benedict's back is turned as he reaches for a vial of serum, and Mary catches my eye. I shake my head and mouth, Cabinets, top drawer. She nods. She may just get a chance to look in there when I'm getting my injection.
Her gaze could freeze Dr. Benedict's blood in his veins as he plunges the needle into her skin. I almost put a needle in her once, and she was so soft that morning before the sun had even come up. Now she's nothing but stone, and I swear Dr. Benedict can't meet her eyes. It's not fair, really, blaming him. He's just another piece in the government game. Did they have to force him to be loyal? What was the price?
“Please sit in the waiting room for five minutes to see if there are any side effects.” He dismisses Mary with a curt nod.
I stand and go into the room, and he shuts the door behind me. He's never done that before, but we've also never been in the medical area with anyone else. I try not to be nervous about it.
“Terra, good to see you again.”
I nod. I want to reach for his hand and ask why he treated Mary so differently from the way he treats me, but I keep my arms folded across my chest. Maybe he closed the door to hide the fact that he shows a preference for me.
He smiles and runs a finger over my head, where the stubble of black hair is growing in. “I think you had beautiful hair, didn't you? Before they took it all?”
It's so unexpected that I can't say anything. He talked to Mary like he could hardly stand her, and here he is complimenting me and caressing me. I would love to lean into that touch, to know that someone here actually cares, but his double-sided behavior raises goose bumps on my arms, and it's not in a skin-tingling way—more like a skin-crawling way.
His smile fades. “I'm sorry, Terra, but I have to give you another injection.”
I nod and my eyes burn. I blink hard. I raise my hands to ask why?
He rubs his hands over his face. “I've told you, Terra. You've been in the wild, and we need to make sure you're inoculated against infectious diseases. So you don't get them and you don't spread them to the rest of us.”
He does make it sound so logical. And it would be logical if I didn't know the government was capable of so much inhumanity.
Why all the side effects?
“That's a good question,” he says, turning to the fridge.
I close my eyes and silently beg him to turn back empty-handed. I can't stand another day being prisoner to whatever is in that tiny vial.
“Every day new medicines are discovered as well as new diseases. So new serums are created. We have to start using them quickly to protect us all before it's too late. It's unfortunate there are so many side effects, but sometimes that's the price you have to pay.”
Yes, unfortunate indeed. I shudder as I offer him my arm.
The smiles and the dimple come back. “Thank you for understanding, Terra.”
He slips the needle into my skin, and the burning crawls through my veins. I wonder what they'll turn me into this time.
I can't look at him with the empty syringe in his hand. I slide off the table, open the door, and find Mary in the waiting room, looking a little pale. She moves her head an inch to the side, her mouth in a tight line, and I sigh. No keycard.
“You'll want to wait for a few minutes, Terra, to make sure there are no side effects this time.” Dr. Benedict smiles warmly, but he's angled away from Mary so she can't see that show of kindness. Her eyes narrow. What is going on here?
I sit down next to her. My head aches a little, but I don't have the dizziness and I'm still seeing everything for what it is. Then she leans into me.
“You're just his little pet, aren't you?” She sneers at me, her face uglier than I've ever seen it. I stand up and slide over to the next chair.
What's wrong? I mouth. I'd write it on her hand, but I don't really want to touch her right now.
Mary grips the arms of her chair until her fingertips and knuckles turn white. She laughs, avoiding Dr. Benedict's gaze. His hands are on his hips, and he can't decide if this is going to be an altercation he needs to break up.
“What's wrong? You're serious? Why does everyone prefer you? Dave did—until I sabotaged that whole situation—and now the handsome doctor does.” She nods her chin in Dr. Benedict's direction. “What is the draw? I just don't get it.”
I didn't expect her words to make me angry, but there's an inexplicable inferno in my chest, and now I'm grabbing the arm rests just like she is. My eyes narrow to slits. Is it really so astounding that guys would find me attractive? Sure I'm not exactly beautiful and I have no curves by any stretch of the imagination, but am I really that repulsive?
“Must be the mute thing. Draws their sympathy.” Mary releases one hand and taps her chin. “Yup, that's got to be it because other than that, I'm coming up blank.”
The inferno in my chest flares up my neck and blinds me, and all I can feel is heat lapping at her, just begging to be released. Before I even know what I'm doing, my hand curls into a fist and I punch Mary square in the face.
Chapter Fourteen
The next day during yard time, I make a beeline for Jack, and Mary follows. He's at the fence, his breath coming out in foggy puffs, and he's waiting for me like he already knows I need him, that I need to talk to him. But before I can reach for his palm, his hands are on my face, caressing me like he thought he'd never see me again.
“Cal
m down, Jack,” Mary hisses.
“You're okay?” he asks, his voice hushed.
I nod. What's wrong? I still see a battle in his eyes—he hasn't forgiven me for lying all this time—so I wasn't expecting this reception.
He takes a deep breath. “I got an injection yesterday, and for hours afterward, I couldn't help thinking you were dead. That Dave and Mary were dead.” He laughs humorously. “I know I can't trust myself after those injections. The side effects are horrendous. You've had one, haven't you?”
I nod again.
“Heh.” Mary laughs and gingerly touches her black eye and swollen nose. “You should have seen her yesterday.”
“Terra did that to you?” Jack gapes at her. He turns to me. “Then you know what I'm talking about.”
I grab his hand. Could a drug make us loyal?
“What?”
The injections. They make us everything else. Could they make us loyal?
His eyebrows knit, and he's thinking so hard I can almost hear the gears cranking. “I'm not very good at neurology. There was never time or resources to get into anything that complex. But I think so. Different drugs produce different psychological side effects, depending on how they affect your neural transmitters. They can make your nerves send incorrect messages. That's the basic gist of it. So yes, I think so. If they're trying to find a drug that would make us loyal to them, it would take a lot of trial and error. And a lot of the side effects.”
That's why we have to escape.
His eyes open wide. “Because if they force us to trust them, no one will want to fight ever again.”
I motion Mary to tell him about Madge's plan.
Jack's eyes stay wide, and his head drops when she's done. “It's so dangerous,” is all he can say.
I have three vials. How many more?
“I don't know. They only give us a small dose, so there's quite a few doses in each vial. Maybe one or two more, but I wouldn't risk taking more than that, or they'll start wondering where it's disappearing to.”