“How do you see it that way?” I asked. I felt like our roles were reversed. Now I was doing the counseling, as if she needed the therapy more than I did.
She leaned her back against the wall and looked out across the room. “It’s one of our greatest human flaws, Madeline,” she said. “We desire the very things that harm us. We don’t know how to discipline our desires. We never know our limits until we hurt ourselves. It’s what leads to our downfall—the things we want the most ultimately destroy us.”
I asked her how the sun was dangerous.
“The sun is necessary. We need it to sustain life. But we’re also drawn to it. We’re mystified by it, we bask in it, but the sun is just a ball of radiation. It’s poison to our skin, and people don’t know how to limit themselves. We expose ourselves to it until we’re burned, until we get cancer. It’s the same with eating. We need food to nourish us, but we’ll eat until we make ourselves sick. People need to be prescribed the right dose of their desires in order to live. Humans need guidelines and parameters or our desires become our own suicides.”
Looking at Dr. Stevenson, I doubted her milky skin had ever been exposed to the sun. She could be thirty years old, she could be fifty. It was hard to tell because there were no laugh lines around her eyes or her mouth. She didn’t have any wrinkles, but she also didn’t have any signs of living. There was something empty and dull about her pale skin.
“People don’t like to be forced,” I said.
“Look at it as being guided,” she said simply. “Humans think they’re invincible. They feel entitled to overindulge in anything they want. They think everything on this earth was put here for their enjoyment. Even the sun. And humans are inherently selfish. We overindulge until someone cuts us off, until we learn how to pace our desires. We are a dangerous species to let loose, Madeline. This planet won’t thrive unless we’re contained.”
She took the compact out of her lab-coat pocket and handed it to me. I took the tablet obediently. I couldn’t tell what stung more, the pill in my mouth or the anger pulsing through my spine that this shortsighted scientist was controlling my mind and I was powerless to fight back.
Or was I powerless? Was that merely what they wanted me to believe?
I folded in on myself. They wanted to open up my mind in here, so that’s what I was determined to fight. I imagined my brain was a house and I locked all the doors and boarded up the windows. I won’t let you inside, I thought. I won’t look at you. You are not real. You cannot find me in here; you can’t break in. I’m not yours. This is just my body. Just a layer of me, one piece. You can’t begin to contain me.
I closed my eyes and when I opened them, they immediately started to burn. I was standing inside of a thick cloud of smoke. I inhaled and my lungs rejected the contaminated air and left me choking. Screams pelted my ears. People shouted for me to run. The world was camouflaged in white ash.
Panic took over and pushed my legs forward. I couldn’t see anything; my eyes burned with tears and I tried to breathe again but the smoke scratched against my lungs like sandpaper. People pushed past me. Footsteps stomped and dragged and tripped. Something crashed nearby and I instinctively covered my head as the ground rumbled. Glass shattered around me like high-pitched screams, and the white sheet of ash blew against me with a hot gust. I heard a child crying next to me. I reached my hand out to find her but all I felt was heat. I could smell blood around me; it had a metallic odor, like hot iron.
I fell over something on the ground and when I felt around for what had tripped me, I touched cold fingers. I held on to them and squeezed, then bent my head down closer and realized I was holding a severed arm, blown off and lying in the street. I lifted myself up before fear could hold me down. My hands were covered in blood.
Sirens wailed around me. Debris was falling from above, as if the sky were splintering into pieces. I kept running but I didn’t know if I was running into danger or away from it. Faces flooded through my mind: Justin’s, my parents’, my friends’. I screamed out for them, for anyone to help. I could taste acid in my mouth. A body fell from the sky and landed so close to me that the ground under my feet shook and I heard a slap as blood splattered into my eyes.
***
I woke up screaming in my bed. I had kicked off all the sheets. My body was damp with sweat. I thought someone was in the room and I instinctively wrapped my arms over my head.
“On,” I cried, and the lights snapped on and I covered my face with my hands, but I still peered through slits between my fingers. The room was completely bare. There was no sign of blood or any kind of struggle. Tears ran freely down my face and into my fingers. My sweat turned cold and I started to shiver. I needed to go to the bathroom, but there was no way I was going outside. I glared at the door like it was my enemy. Fear pulled on every corner of my mind, but I mentally pushed back. I forced myself to think about something real, so I imagined Justin. I let his fingers play through my hair. I let his words rain over me. The idea warmed me up, starting inside and slowly working its way out. I knew he was out there, right now, looking for me. I wrapped my mind around that and held on to it like a lifeline. Already, my nightmare was starting to fade. I kept my mind on Justin. I refused to let any other thought seep in. I stared at him like he was staring right back at me.
There was a knock at my door and the sound made me jump in my bed. I bolted up and looked around at my wall screens, at the safe boundaries of my life, and sucked in a shaky breath. The door eased open and I could smell strong coffee. I lay back down and pulled the sheets up to my chin as Gabe walked in my room. He perched himself on the side of my desk and held the coffee out to me, waiting for me to take it. I looked at the white ceramic mug. There was steam slowly curling above it. The smell made my stomach knot.
I yanked the covers over my face. I’d barely slept the last few nights, my mind always tormented with nightmares.
“What are you doing in here?” I mumbled through the sheet.
“I haven’t seen you in a few days,” Gabe said. “That isn’t like you.” I peeked out at him. He held the cup out to me again. “Time to get up.”
I curled away from him. “Leave me alone,” I grumbled.
“You should eat something,” Gabe noted.
I groaned in response. In the three weeks I’d been here I’d yet to order a meal. I forced down a few sandwich bars and fruit when I could stomach it. I rarely felt hungry. Eating sustains life and lately I hadn’t felt very alive. I didn’t have to look in the mirror to see I was losing weight. My scrubs were already feeling looser.
I buried my head in the pillow because it felt strangely normal to want to suffocate.
I heard Gabe stand up and I instinctively pulled the blanket tighter around me, like I needed to protect myself. I was getting jumpier every day. Any noise or sudden movement made my heart skip and my stomach clench.
“You’ll feel better if you shower,” he said.
I grunted in reply.
“Tonight’s a big night,” I heard him say. “I don’t think you want to miss it.”
I pulled the sheets down past my chest and blinked at him. Something small took root in my heart, like a seed of hope.
“Why?” I asked.
He grinned. “Don’t you want to see your friends?”
I managed to sit up. I asked him if he was serious. I dared to smile.
“One hour,” he told me. “Midnight. Be ready to go.” With that, he turned and walked out of the room.
Chapter Fourteen
I paced back and forth, my sandals swishing against the floor of my room. I had finally climbed out of bed and Gabe left my door unlocked so I could shower and change. I wore my scrubs and a hooded sweatshirt. I ate a cereal bar but I had to force it down. My heart was pounding with nerves. A little before midnight, I heard a light tap at the door. I opened it and Gabe motioned for me to follow him.
He walked ahead of me down the hall and I was careful to keep a few steps behind him. I
needed the distance. Close human contact was starting to scare me. In the past few weeks, all I’d experienced around people was pain. When people were face-to-face, tragedy struck. A look felt like a bee sting. It started to seem natural to be separated from people. I craved being alone. No one could hurt me inside my wall screens. They were slowly becoming a comfort, a cushion between me and the harsh world outside. I was stepping out of it less and less.
I had passed a girl in the hall twice this week on my way to the bathroom and each time we both kept our eyes averted and leaned toward opposite walls, staying far away from each other, as if we carried contagious disease. I didn’t even see people as people. I saw only shadows and movements that could hurt me. I saw violence dressed in green scrubs. I didn’t look in the mirror anymore. The wall screen could project a mirror if I wanted to use it. I imagined myself instead—the hair I wished I had, the curves and the clothes. I fixed my mind on that image because it was easier than accepting my reflection.
We walked to the elevator and Gabe opened it with his keycard. Inside, he punched in a code and the elevator slowly descended. Neither of us spoke. When the doors opened, we stepped out into a long corridor that looked more like a cement tunnel than a hallway. The floor and walls were light gray and the narrow space was lit by old-fashioned bulbs that cast spidery shadows across the ceiling.
“We’re on the basement floor.” Gabe finally spoke up. “We don’t have to whisper anymore. No one comes down here. No Eyes.”
“What about upstairs?” I asked. “Didn’t it see us leave?”
“The Eyes turn off at night,” Gabe said, “when all the doors are bolted. Not that you need to know that. It’s pointless to have them on; no one can leave the room at night without being escorted, and we haven’t had an emergency call in years. Kids are too well trained.”
“Or too terrified,” I pointed out.
“Maybe,” Gabe agreed.
I zipped my hoodie up against the dank, heavy air.
“What do they use this for?” I asked. “The DC morgue?” As soon as the words left my mouth I felt fear wrap a cold arm around me because it might be true.
“They hardly use it at all,” Gabe assured me. “It’s mostly for storage. This floor survived the Big Quake, but when they built the dormitory they didn’t have any use for it. The rest of the staff’s afraid to come down here. They say it’s haunted.”
I followed him down the long hallway and asked him how he discovered it.
“The electrical generator’s down here,” he told me and opened a door at the end of the hall. We walked inside a wide space lit with so many blinking computer monitors we didn’t have to turn on the overhead lights. He explained the DC was run on solar energy distributed through an energy grid. “This is where I discovered a way out.”
We walked around a generator that occupied most of the space in the room and emitted a low rumble. Metal pipes grew out of the machine like branches and climbed toward vents in the ceiling. It coughed to life as we passed and the sound made me jump.
“In an earthquake last year, the power grid shut off. Some electricians came in to fix it and they brought me down here for security. That’s when I found this.” He pushed away a pile of metal bed frames stacked on a roller. There was a steel door behind it, almost impossible to see, since it blended in with the gray basement walls.
“There’s no handle,” Gabe pointed out. “I think that’s why no one noticed it before. But then I accidentally stepped on this.” He pressed the toe of his tennis shoe down on a small, metal square in the floor, and it released a lock on the door. The heavy door eased open with a sigh and Gabe swung it back all the way. A sheet of darkness welcomed us.
“What’s out there?” I asked. “A sewer?” My adventurous side was definitely lacking these days. The last thing I could handle was a dark, rat-infested tunnel.
Gabe gave me an encouraging smile but I shook my head and stepped back. “I’m not in any condition for cave exploring.”
He raised his hands and told me it was the only way out of the DC. “It’s fine,” he assured me. “It’s an old underground subway line they don’t use anymore.” He reminded me that since the Big Quake, all of the trains and ZipLines in L.A. had been built aboveground. “It leads to an opening a block from the ocean.”
I leaned forward and stuck my head into the deserted tunnel. All I could hear was my own breathing. All I could feel was cool, pitch-black air.
“Does anyone ever go in it?” I asked.
“I’ve seen kids messing around on bikes down here,” he said. “I heard someone driving through on a motorcycle a few days ago. That’s why everyone in the DC thinks this floor is haunted. They’ve probably heard people in the tunnel.”
He stepped out and turned on a flashlight. The wide beam of light illuminated two subway lines that ran through the middle of the tunnel. I stalled at the door.
He pulled lightly on my sleeve, but I jerked my arm away from the touch, nearly slapping him.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “Natural reflex.”
“I hope it’s an unnatural reflex,” Gabe said. “It’s kind of sad when every woman you interact with wants to deck you.” He waited for me to move on my own. “It’s safe,” he promised. “I use this all the time.”
“Why do you use it?” I asked.
He shrugged like it was obvious. “Everybody needs a break from this place,” he pointed out.
“But you work here. Can’t you leave out the front gate? Don’t you get time off?”
Instead of answering me, he motioned for me to follow him. “We better find your friends,” he said.
I walked behind him on a concrete ledge built high above the tracks. Distant voices echoed softly ahead of us, and bobbing flashlights floated our way. I started to see the outline of tall shadows behind them.
“Maddie?” I recognized Clare’s voice.
“Clare,” I said, and my voice echoed.
“Maddie!” I could hear her footsteps running toward me, gaining ground. The beam of a flashlight grew until it was blinding, like something was crashing in my direction. Warning lights went on in my mind and told me to do one thing: run. My heart jumped and I pushed past Gabe to get back to the DC. He caught my arm to hold me still. I turned and swung my fist at him, but he blocked my swing with his other arm, and the flashlight was knocked out of his hand.
More voices shouted in the distance.
“Slow down!” Gabe yelled at Clare, but it was too late. She was nearly on top of us and I sucked in a deep breath. Gabe knew what was coming. He grabbed me around the waist and pressed his hand so tight against my mouth it pushed my lips against my teeth and muffled the scream that ripped through my throat. I hadn’t expected Gabe to be strong, but he pinned me so hard against him I couldn’t move my arms. I kicked my legs out and screamed but he easily held me down. His lips were close to my ear.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered. I could sense other people crowding around us, too close.
“Back off!” Gabe shouted at them.
Panic took over. I tried to scream again but his hand was still pressed over my mouth. I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for the explosion. For the tunnel to fall in around us. For my friends to die. We’d be buried alive down here. It would be all my fault.
Fear rushed through my veins like ice water and my body went limp. It was hopeless. Maybe my dreams were some kind of a prophecy. I could smell smoke around us and it made me choke. I gasped for breath and tried to scream again, to warn everyone to run.
“What’s wrong with her?” I recognized Justin’s voice.
“Something triggered a memory,” I heard Gabe say.
My knees gave out and Gabe lowered me to the ground. My lungs strained for breath through air that was too thick to breathe. I focused on my dorm room, where it was safe, where I could control the elements. Gabe rubbed his hand lightly on my back, but it didn’t help. His fingers left trails of chills. What was the point in consol
ing me when we were all going to die?
The sweat was back, covering my body and seeping through my clothes. I gasped and coughed for air. I was shaking and whimpering on all fours, like a wounded animal. And then the air felt weighted, so heavy it pulled me down until I was buried in darkness.
Chapter Fifteen
I woke up to a murmur of voices swirling around me, but the voices weren’t shouting or ordering me to run. They were calm and fell around me like a soft rain shower. For once it wasn’t a nightmare. It sounded like music and I kept my eyes closed and listened for a few minutes, enjoying the lyrics.
“I’m so sorry,” I heard Clare say, her voice sagging with concern.
“Stop apologizing, it’s not your fault. I should have warned you guys about this,” I heard Gabe explain. “No sudden movements. And don’t try to touch her. She can’t handle contact right now. She’ll just associate it with the nightmares.”
“What nightmares?” I recognized Molly’s voice in the mix. She’d hardly said two words to me in my life; what was she doing here?
“It was too soon to bring her out,” Gabe said. “The first six weeks are the worst. I thought she might be able to handle it.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Justin’s voice made my blood start to move and something inside of me that had been severed became connected. I rolled onto my back and blinked my eyes open to a dim ceiling light. I was in a bed. I glanced around the room, which was small, the size of my dorm room, and with metal closets filling the wall space. Everyone around me took several steps back. I weakly propped myself up on my elbows and squinted at a sea of anxious faces. I could feel my pulse pounding in my temples.
“She should be all right now, just keep your distance,” Gabe said, as if I were a mountain lion that had a broken leg but was still capable of biting.
Clare stood next to Gabe, at the foot of the bed, her eyes red and puffy. She studied me like she didn’t recognize me anymore. I looked around and slowly registered the other faces. Pat was there, watching me with a mixture of anger and worry. Molly stood the closest to my side, and Justin leaned against the wall, the farthest away from me. His gray baseball cap was pulled low on his face, but I could still see his eyes fixed on mine like they wanted to grab hold of me. His arms were crossed over his chest.
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