The ARC 01: Tainted

by Alexandra Moody

  After several seconds of silence I realise this is all the guidance she’ll be giving me for my session today. I say thank you quietly to the woman, not wishing to disturb her again, and set off in the direction she had waved to.

  When I reach the door with the shiny metal number 36 on it I stop. The door is open and inside I can see an old woman lying back on her bed, sleeping quietly. I go to walk into the room, but my feet are cemented to the ground and they refuse to budge. I feel torn. I’m here to sit with this woman, but I can’t bring myself to walk in there and disturb her when she looks so peaceful.

  Before I can make up my mind, the door across the hallway bursts open. Two male nurses appear, attempting to drag an old man out of his room and into the hallway.

  ‘C’mon Dr. Wilson, you can’t put your testing off any longer,’ one of them shouts over the man’s desperate struggles. I clamber backwards to the opposite wall.

  ‘No!’ he screams. ‘No! You can’t take me!’ he yells even louder. ‘I know about the tainted. I practically diagnosed it! Don’t you think I’d know if I was tainted?’

  ‘Yes Dr. Wilson, but we still have to follow protocol,’ the nurse says.

  The old man continues to struggle and then his eyes lock on mine. ‘Don’t let them take me,’ he pleads with me. The nurse roughly tugs at his arms.

  ‘No!’ The old man begins yelling again. He lunges forward and somehow manages to break free of the nurses’ grasp causing all three of them to fall to the ground. The man scrambles to his feet and then stumbles towards me with surprising speed. I’m terrified, but rooted to the spot as he grabs me by the arms.

  ‘Don’t let them take me,’ he whispers again, as he leans in close to my face. I can clearly see the panic in his eyes. ‘Don’t let them take me. I’m not taint…’

  Before the old man can finish one of the nurses rips him away from me and pins him against the wall. The other nurse brings out a syringe and injects the man in the arm. Immediately his whole body begins to slouch and his yelling dies down to a quiet mutter, as he allows himself to be dragged away.

  One of the nurses looks over his shoulder at me as he leaves. His eyes are threatening and my feet, which had moments ago felt glued to the floor, begin walking like they have a mind of their own. Before I know it I’m running back through the reception.

  The woman at the desk shouts something after me, but I don’t listen. Instead I make a beeline for the exit. People stare as I run through the hospital. I can feel their eyes burning into my skin with disapproval.

  More than once I hear yells of ‘slow down’ or ‘no running,’ but I need to get away from here as quickly as I can.

  Once I’m out of the Hospital Wing I fall against a wall, leaning one hand against it for support. Short, shallow breaths grip me and I am unable to fill my lungs. My chest is tight and feels like it’s burning inside. I firmly press one of my hands against it as I try to calm down, but I still can’t seem to breathe.

  I close my eyes tightly shut and try to force deep breaths of air back into my lungs. With my voice quaking, I count to ten. As I count my breathing slows and gradually the air manages to make it down into my lungs.

  When my breath is steady I open my eyes again. The hallway is empty and I feel relieved no one witnessed my breakdown. I’m quick to huddle my arms around my body and begin the walk back to my room.

  I’ve always heard they use brute force when people refuse to attend their testing. But having seen it with my own eyes, especially on someone so old, has shaken me to the core.

  I’m grateful to find my room empty when I return. Quinn has been so kind to me since Sebastian was taken, but she looks at me like I’m a fragile piece of porcelain china teetering precariously over the edge of a table.

  I throw myself on my bed and burrow my way under the sheets. For a minute I stare at the ceiling and try to imagine where Sebastian is right now, but my thoughts are dark and bring me too much pain. I roll up into a ball and try to block them out, desperate to simply fall into a peaceful, dreamless sleep. I toss and turn restlessly though. My whole body is covered in sweat and I can’t seem to completely nod off, but I’m unable to stay completely awake either.

  As I drift turbulently in and out of consciousness I am aware of Sebastian’s voice echoing through my mind.

  ‘You promised you would come for me,’ his voice whispers, betrayed.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The week passes slowly. At school people still gawk at me, but after only a few days the staring has stopped altogether. It’s as though they’ve all forgotten Sebastian is gone and there’s no longer a reason to treat me like I’m fragile.

  I guess that’s how people cope down here. You learn to forget the ones that are taken because if you dwell on it you lose any ability to function normally.

  There’s nothing I want more than to forget him, but the longer he is gone the more my heart seems to ache at his absence. Several times I’ve found myself instinctively searching for his face in the dinner hall or looking up to share a joke with him, only to find the seat next to me empty. Yesterday morning I’d been halfway to his quarters before it had hit me he was no longer there.

  I’m a mess. I suppose that’s why I’m here in therapy. It’s to be expected.

  Still, I need to stop thinking about him.

  A cold shiver runs down my back and I wrap my arms across my chest. I need to forget, but all I can think about is the promise I made. How I said I would come for him.

  ‘How are you feeling today?’ Simone asks me.

  I shrug my shoulders and continue to look determinedly at one of the books that are open on the table next to her. This week has been hell and I’m not coping, but I don’t want her to know how hard I’m taking it. She continues waiting for me to say something and the silence makes me uncomfortable, so I say, ‘I feel guilty.’

  ‘Why do you feel guilty?’

  I sigh and look down into my hands. ‘Because I can’t forget him. I know I’m supposed to, but I can’t.’

  ‘Why do you feel you need to forget him?’ She’s stopped typing on her tablet and is watching me closely.

  ‘Isn’t that what everyone wants? Isn’t that how I’m supposed to move on?’ I bite down on my lip as I feel tears beginning to well in my eyes. I take a deep breath and try to focus on controlling them. I refuse to break down in front of this woman.

  She pauses before she answers. ‘I don’t think anyone would ever expect you to forget about your friend.’

  I curl my legs up on the chair and start playing with my pendant as I think. Her answer surprises me. I thought forgetting the tainted was exactly what the Council wanted. ‘Then how do I move on?’

  ‘How do you think I would answer that question?’ she asks kindly.

  I peer up at her. She looks like she’s genuinely interested in my answer, so I take a moment to consider it. ‘I think you’d tell me I have to let go and accept he’s gone.’

  She nods, but I can’t tell if she’s indicating it’s the right answer or if she’s just showing she’s listening.

  ‘Why would I suggest that do you think?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I respond. ‘Aren’t you the therapist here?’

  She laughs lightly. ‘Yes, but it may help to come to some of these conclusions yourself.’

  ‘Right,’ I mumble, still with no clue how to answer her question.

  Simone moves on from that though and asks me something different. ‘How does Sebastian leaving make you feel?’ she asks.

  Empty is the first thing that comes to mind, but I quickly realise as much as that’s true, there’s something that feels much worse for me than that.

  ‘Powerless,’ I answer. ‘There was nothing I could do to stop him getting sick.’ There’s also nothing I can do to get him back, but I keep my mouth shut about that one.

  Silence hovers over the room and I almost think I can see a glint of sympathy in Simone’s eyes, but she quickly looks away, glancing down at
her CommuCuff and then back up again. ‘We’re at the end of our allotted time for today. You’ve taken some positive steps this session in opening up to me. How do you think our talk today went?’

  ‘Good?’ I say, well, ask. I have no idea how to gauge how today went.

  ‘I’d like to set you some homework for the next week that I think may help. Why don’t you think of some things in your life that you can change, rather than the ones you can’t?’

  Homework? Really? I want to groan. ‘Okay,’ I respond, not bothering to keep the displeasure from my voice.

  She smiles and stands to show me out. ‘I’ll see you in a couple of days. You’ll get a reminder message on your cuff the night before.’

  The door closes behind me and I feel relieved to be finished with Simone for the day. I never know how much to say in those sessions and I don’t want to say the wrong thing and get in trouble. Sometimes I worry she’ll see how messed up I really am and I’ll be stuck in therapy for life.

  The therapist’s office is right around the corner from the Hospital Wing, so I quickly find myself standing in front of it. Ever since Sebastian was taken my heart seems to stutter in my chest every time I see it. In just one week I’ll be entering the hospital for my own testing. The thought makes me happy in a way.

  I have my community service hours in the Aged Care Ward again today. I hesitate at the entrance though, and worry about what to expect. Surely everything will be fine and I won’t experience a repeat of last week?

  My hours are longer today to make up for my disappearance last week. Once upon a time I’d feel annoyed about extra hours. I’d be pissed about missing basketball or I’d moan because it was going to be boring. Now though? I feel nothing. I dig my hands into my pockets as I make my way inside. Feeling nothing is worse than all the bad feelings put together.

  When I arrive at the Aged Care Ward the same lady is behind the desk again. ‘Can I help you?’ she asks sourly.

  ‘Yes. Elle Winters, I’m here for my community service hours.’

  She looks me up and down, her nose almost turning up with disapproval. ‘Oh you’re actually going to do them this week?’ she says.

  I bump my cuff against the CommuSensor to sign in.

  ‘You’re with Mrs. Mayberry again,’ she continues, her voice turning quite spiteful. ‘I thought you’d appreciate it seeing as you were unable to sit with her last week.’

  I nod tightly at her and then walk down the corridor to the left of the desk.

  ‘Room 36,’ she calls out behind me, her voice sickly sweet.

  I don’t look back.

  When I reach room 36 I peer inside, hoping to see Mrs. Mayberry sitting up in bed or busying herself over at the small table and chairs. Instead I find her sleeping again. My shoulders slouch with disappointment. I’d been looking forward to the distraction.

  There’s a cough from one of the rooms across the hallway behind me and I turn towards the noise. The cough comes again and I wander over to the room directly opposite Mrs. Mayberry’s.

  Standing just outside the doorway of room 37, I can see inside sits the man who’d been struggling against the nurses last week. The first thing that hits me about him is he doesn’t seem deranged and angry like he was the last time I was here. In fact, from where I’m standing, there doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with him at all. It’s hard to believe he’s the same person who I’d seen making such a commotion seven days ago.

  Sitting at the table, playing on his tablet, he simply seems like a bored old man who was shafted into the care facility.

  I look up and down the hallway before stepping into the room. He turns to me as I enter and switches his tablet off, placing it down on the table.

  ‘Dr. Wilson?’ I say, uncertain I have his name correct.

  ‘Ah company!’ he says cheerfully. I ease my way closer to the table. I don’t see any recognition in his eyes and I wonder if he even remembers what happened last week.

  ‘Sit, sit.’ He pulls his shoulders back and smiles as he waves me towards the seat opposite him. He is straight into entertainment mode. I can only assume he doesn’t get many visitors.

  ‘So my dear, whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with today?’ he asks, sitting slightly straighter and crossing one leg over the other.

  ‘Elle Winters,’ I reply.

  ‘Well Miss Winters, please do tell me how you ended up in the Asteroid Refugee Compound?’

  ‘Oh,’ I respond, taking a second to gather my thoughts. I am definitely thrown by his direct and obtrusive question.

  ‘I was young when I came. I don’t really remember.’ I laugh faintly and say, almost to myself, ‘I haven’t heard the ARC called by that name in a long time.’

  I was only two years old when the asteroid hit. And it was true what I had said—I don’t remember how I came to be here. But I do have flashes of memories, snippets of the story I cannot start or finish.

  The sound of people’s desperate cries as they pushed and shoved their way towards the mountain that towered over us is a sound you could never forget. But the most vivid memory I have is how I felt. I was lost and my parents were missing. It was a gut wrenching, sickening feeling that haunts me whenever I think about it.

  I also remember there had been a man. I can’t remember what he looked like, but I do remember how comforting holding his hand had felt. He had made me feel so safe and secure when the world was falling to pieces around me. He saved me and I wouldn’t be here if it hadn’t been for him.

  Dr. Wilson is nodding to himself as he mutters about orphans and the tragedy of it all.

  ‘Yes, I guess we can’t all be so fortunate as to have been selectively picked for our expertise, and potential for furthering the future of the human race,’ he says, quite delighted with himself and his achievement.

  ‘So, Dr. Wilson, what kind of doctor are you?’

  ‘Oh you’re sweet,’ he says. ‘But I don’t practice medicine anymore. I was, back in the day, a pathologist. Specialised in rare diseases.’ He frowns slightly at the end of the sentence, like something troubles him about what he has said.

  ‘So you must’ve been involved with the tainted then?’ I ask slowly, as I recall his ravings from the previous week.

  ‘Yes, yes. I was a part of all that. Did some of my best work with the tainted. Ah, those were good times.’ I try to cover a grimace. I can see why he no longer practices if he views dealing with a disease that has taken so many of our people away from us as a ‘good time’.

  I attempt to gently probe him more with questions. ‘So, you dealt with them?’ I confirm.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ he replies, as he looks down into the glass of water he cradles in his lap. ‘Such a complex mutation, so intricate and beautiful. Oh and with incredibly unique symptoms!’

  I feel a lump in my throat and the hairs on my arms stand on end at the sound of the word. Symptoms?

  ‘What kinds of symptoms?’

  ‘Well, there was this one tainted boy and he could…’ He stops mid sentence and looks at me suspiciously, as though unsure whether he should continue.

  ‘Hmm, let’s not get into all that,’ he decides. ‘Unpleasant business. Besides, my medical days are far behind me. My mind isn’t what it used to be.’ He chuckles nervously, tapping his head with a long, fragile finger.

  I try to laugh along with him, but I’m not convinced by his supposed confusion. After he stops laughing he still looks at me untrustingly; he’s not convinced by me either.

  ‘You must’ve had a large lab? For all of your patients?’ I ask, trying a different tact. His eyes light up at the question and he looks relieved we have quickly moved on to a much safer topic.

  ‘Oh yes,’ he responds. ‘It was in the Hospital Wing. They gave me free range in those days.’ His eyes glass over as he reminisces on the ‘good old days.’

  ‘Gosh if it hadn’t been for me, we never would’ve found that marker in the blood. And we definitely wouldn’t have been able to test fo
r it. Come to think of it, we never would’ve known about the signal symptoms you get leading up to it either!’ he says proudly.

  ‘Signal symptoms?’ I ask. ‘I thought it was through the yearly testing that people who are affected are discovered?’ I sit on the edge of my seat. I’m trying desperately not to sound too eager or too keen, but everything he’s saying is making it very difficult.

  ‘Well, initially it was simply the test. But after I found out the infection begins with a fever we were able to diagnose the tainted sooner.’

  I take a second, attempting to absorb what he’s said. ‘It sounds like you were the glue that held it all together,’ I say.

  ‘I was! The Council should be grateful for all that I’ve done for them!’ he replies, anger seeping into his voice as he utters the word ‘Council.’

  He begins to bluster about the Council and I sit back in my chair slightly. I’ve struck a nerve, and not a good one.

  ‘Did you know I was the one who set up tainted protocol. I was the reason we could ensure our survival. The Council, pah! Those idiots didn’t know what had hit them.

  ‘They still have no idea what’s hit them! And they think they can just shut me in here? Take all of my hard work from me?’ His hands begin shaking as his voice builds.

  ‘And they have the gall to start sending people away! Those patients were no danger. The Council got scared. They figured they’d send them off and pretend they don’t exist. Great solution when it’s mostly the young that get infected! Ha! There’ll be no one left if they keep at it!’

  Dr. Wilson isn’t the only one shaking now. ‘Surely you must know where they go?’ I ask, my voice unsteady, as my desperation to know the truth begins to seep through the cracks in my outwardly calm façade.

  The anger seeps away from his eyes and sadness seems to replace it. He rubs the arch of his nose, wearily.

  ‘If only I knew,’ he says. ‘My own grandson was taken a few years back. I may have been in charge of diagnosis, but I have no idea where they went from there. I can only hope it’s somewhere better than here.’