Callim's Challenge

by Pearl Tate

  I just don’t want to lose him. For so long, it’s been me they’ve worried about. I’ve been the sick one they’ve been monitoring to make sure that my organs don’t fail.

  “What are the drugs, Atticus? Please, tell me something?” My plea is a whisper as Atticus finishes with his display and starts to focus on Callim. Lifting his lids and shining his light, he glances up as he sighs.

  “Honestly Shelly, nothing I recognize. That’s why it’s so confusing. I hesitate to even contact the Council to request getting in touch with Mila, but it’s looking like I don’t have a choice.” Straightening, he scrubs his hand over his face before grasping his chin and peering down at Callim thoughtfully. “I detect nothing physically wrong with him. It’s a mystery.”

  “Will Mila even be honest? Is that why you hesitate to contact her?” Clasping Callim’s hand tightly, I think about how we must do everything possible. Maybe we’re just test subjects to the Council and scientists like Mila, who’re using us as guinea pigs. But Atticus doesn’t feel that way! Can't he figure this out?

  “Yes. What if she started something bad? And she gives me further information to keep things progressing? We can’t trust anything they suggest so why even bother? I’m afraid of getting more bad information than good.”

  Hannah walks up and nods her head in agreement. “I don’t trust them. They would just as likely give us information to kill him. It’s clear they were doing something to him while he was there.”

  Bringing Callim’s hand to my face, I notice it tremble against my lips. His hair is settling as he seems to fall into a deeper sleep. But he still has sweat pouring off him. “He reminds me so much of my mom.” My voice is a whisper, and I don’t even understand why I shared that. But this whole experience is shaking me up. The Deja Vu is undeniable.

  “What do you mean?” Hannah’s cocked her head to the side, but Atticus looks totally puzzled.

  “My mom always had an addiction problem… addictions. Alcohol, cocaine, crack—you name it. She wasn’t the best role model.” Hannah turns to look at Callim as she listens, but Atticus stares at me blankly. “You know what I mean? When I was younger, she tried to be a good mom. Get cleaned up. Stayed at home and cooked. She would go through periods of withdrawal and join the groups. It was a constant battle for her. But this reminds me of her detox periods. Sick, throwing up, and sweating. Seizures. In and out of consciousness…”

  “Fuck, Shelly. That might be it!” Hannah pushes Atticus back as she slides closer to Callim. Snagging Atticus’s flashlight from his pocket, she starts to look him over herself. “What if this is withdrawal from the crap they’re giving him? We just need to get him through it without a heart attack, stroke, or grand mal seizure. I’m not sure what the equivalent of our drugs might be or if they will have them on the ship here. Fuck!” Swinging around, she barks out orders. “I want the full list of unidentifiable…”

  As she moves away to discuss her hypothesis with Atticus and Brock, it’s easy for me to tune her out. After all, I’m totally in shock.

  My worst-case scenario is here. I’ve hooked up with a drug addict.

  I’ve always been super careful to make sure I control my intake of even caffeine. After all, addiction is heredity, right? Isn’t that what they say now?

  And if you have the susceptible genes, you can get addicted to anything. But to make a choice to end up with an addict, knowingly—that's the stuff of nightmares for me. One of the many reasons I never dated. You usually just don’t know until your heart is involved.

  Case in point. Fuck.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  - Callim

  A prick to my upper arm jolts me awake, and I’m horrified to make out Vekel leering above me in the shadowy lighting. Unfortunately, I’m so weak that my gasp of protest is little more than a whisper of air. He scares me, and I toss around ideas in my mind for why he’s here and where I am.

  Have I been dreaming? Am I still at the Sanctuary and the last week has been a hallucination?

  I’ve never dealt or even talked with Vekel myself. Like my pod leader Funjim, he answered directly to the Sacred Mother. He was in charge of other pods. But I’d seen and heard of his cruelty.

  Slowly his hand comes up to rest across his lips with the universal sign to be silent. If I didn’t have to be quiet, I certainly wouldn’t be. But I’m weak, so weak. I can only stare at him with wide eyes as I gather my senses.

  Shelly! In the low light of the room, I see her asleep behind him in the bed next to mine. All it would take is for him to take a few steps back to turn on her, and I’m not sure I could defend her. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but this is the first time I’ve been awake since…

  There’s a pinch as whatever he’s pressed into my skin is removed and he’s gone when I flinch. I don’t even notice him leave. Closing my eyes, I try to gather my thoughts. Was he in my imagination?

  No.

  I saw him once before. When we walked into the room where we had dinner the first day. Shelly called it the cafeteria. He was inside but left as soon as he saw me. He definitely recognized me just as I did him.

  But that was the last thing I was worrying about at the time. I assumed I would remember to speak of it later and later never came. Not with this sickness overcoming me. My mind is hazy even now.

  Could he be a spy? Someone who’s been sent by the Council or Sanctuary to sabotage the efforts here on the Discovery? My thoughts drift momentarily as my body relaxes since he left.

  The swish of another door opening prompts me to try to lift my heavy lids. It’s Atticus, bleary-eyed and ambling slowly towards me as he comes into view. He seems surprised when he sees I’m awake.

  “Callim. Your monitors did some crazy stuff. How are you feeling?”

  “How long has it been?” I’m struggling to stay awake, but I don’t want to drift off until I’ve told him what I’ve seen. It was real and I must tell someone before my hazy mind forgets.

  “It’s the middle of the sleep cycle. You had a seizure and lost consciousness around the evening meal yesterday. Does that help?” He’s already lost interest in looking at me. Instead, he stares at his device he’s slowly running down my chest area.

  “Yes. But… I think I saw someone here. Vekel from the Sanctuary? He woke me.” My voice trails off with certainty. Was he here? Everything is so foggy and even now, I’m losing the battle to keep my eyes open.

  “It’s common to have hallucinations according to Hannah. You’re having a side effect from the addictive drugs leaving your system. Withdrawal. Have you ever heard of this?”

  Giving up, I let my eyes close. “No.” There’s no point in trying to convince him how real Vekel looked… and the fear he immediately instilled in me. My happiness here is so tentative and fragile. Everything went bad so quickly.

  “You may have a lot more before you get better. Hannah suspects this is just the beginning of your withdrawal.”

  Well, that’s not good. Our discussion has Shelly stirring behind him. Focusing on her, I watch her tousled hair flip as her head swings towards us.

  “Callim?” Sitting up quickly, she registers Atticus’s presence and immediately questions him. “Is he okay? What’s going on? I remember you saying you thought he would be out for the night?”

  “He’s fine. Really.” Turning towards Shelly's bed, we both watch her lower down to the floor before tiptoeing over. “I had some parameter alarms set for his heart rate and breathing, and he had a bad dream and it set them off.”

  “You’re awake!” Her excited whisper is enunciated by her cool hand settling on my brow before stroking back into my hair.

  “Yes. Can I get a drink?”

  “I’m sorry.” Atticus and Shelly say at the same time, but it’s Shelly who lifts a glass to my lips. The cool water slips down my throat as I study her. I notice how tired she looks in the dim lighting and wonder why she’s here. Is she worried for me or does she feel obligated?

  “Are you sleepi
ng alright?” Grabbing her hand that’s resting on my thigh, I squeeze it tightly. “Would you be better in your bed?”

  She gives me a strange look, and Atticus just raises his eyebrows before turning away.

  “Are you trying to kick me out of here? Because I’ll have you know that I’ve spent more nights here than in the other room. And fuck, Callim. I’m fucking worried about you.” She’s trying to yank her hand from me. Even though I’m weak, she can’t break my grip.

  “And I’m worried about you, my beautiful mate.” Her gaze softens, and she stops trying to get away from me. “I don’t want you to get sick too. Is this contagious?”

  Atticus looks at me as if I’m simple but answers. “Withdrawal, remember? It’s not contagious. You have some drugs in your system you’ve become addicted to having regularly. Because you’re no longer receiving them, your body’s revolting against you. It makes you sick and uncomfortable. There are a lot of side effects, and it’ll take a while before you're back to normal again. How do you feel now?”

  Oh, yes. I remember him talking about the drugs. But that makes little sense? Or does it?

  Stretching, I raise the bed. This is the best I’ve felt since I arrived. Better than when I woke up yesterday. My stomach is settled. I’m just tired. Like I’ve worked too long in the sun.

  “Good. I feel fine. Can I use the facility now?” My sweaty body doesn’t smell good. Already, I want to pull Shelly into this bed with me. Even now, I can detect the heat between her thighs, and it begs me to please her.

  Atticus looks torn but as he’s considering it, Brock enters the room.

  “Everything alright?” Brock looks much more awake, and he’s holding a mug. He appears to have been awake for some time.

  Atticus straightens and looks at him before turning back to me. “Callim woke up with a rough dream but feels well enough to shower. Could you take him in?”

  “I can take him…” Shelly leans forward protectively, and Brock takes a slow drink as Atticus cuts her off. I’m reminded again of the last time this discussion happened.

  "Stress isn’t good for him. Remember the last time he headed that way, and he had a seizure? Brock's much larger and can catch him if he has another one in the spray." Atticus’s tone leaves no room for argument.

  Shelly sets her jaw but doesn’t say a word. As she backs up, her hand slips from mine. “I’ll change the sheets while you have him in there, Brock. I can do that, at least.”

  I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Maybe there is something to stress causing the seizures. “I’ll be quick, I promise.” Shelly gives me a small smile as I swing my legs over the side of the bed.

  “We’ll be as quick as possible while still being safe and thorough.” Brock adds. He’s pulling together a robe and loading a small cart with toiletries and towels.

  Shelly throws her arms around me, and my hair goes wild around us as our lips meet softly. “I’m so relieved you are doing better. Hurry back.”

  “I will.” Willing my rising cock down, I tell myself not to imagine how it’ll feel to get her into the bed with me again. I certainly don’t need to be hard in the shower while Brock is helping me get cleaned up!

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  - Shelly

  I’ve got the bed sheets changed and Callim’s drink refilled by the time he comes out of the bathroom with Brock. Even though he’s upright and functioning, it’s clear he’s weak and leaning heavily on him.

  Yeah, yeah. They were right. It was a good idea for Brock to help him.

  Plus, I don’t know if we could have gotten through a shower with him naked without me trying to jump him. I’m so aroused. I was dreaming about him and I probably need to clean up too.

  I had a hard time falling asleep. Hannah assured me he wouldn’t be able to get more drugs and become some kind of weird addict. But I fear down the road. She doesn’t “think” he will be susceptible to addictive substances, but I can’t help worrying.

  Bren's convinced there’s no way. Something about their control and daily reflections—meditation, or whatever. I’m clinging to their assurances with everything in me. My poor heart can’t take much more.

  I’m in this far. Now, I have to trust him. He’s not my mom.

  Callim settles heavily onto the mattress and I take a minute to adjust the pillows as Brock lowers the bed down. “How are you feeling now? No nausea?” Brock follows him down as he speaks, peering into his eyes.

  “No. Just tired. And thanks again, Brock. I needed that.”

  “No thanks are necessary. And remember what I said. This is temporary, and you’ll be back to normal in no time.”

  That’s true if he doesn’t undergo a life-threatening heart attack or stroke. I’m not an idiot. I’m intimately familiar with the risks of withdrawal. I’ve seen more seizures than I care to admit.

  When I was young, my mom called them fits and said to ignore them. It wasn’t until I was older that I realized what they were. By then, my mom expected me to help her clean up. I would always pull the sheets, flip the mattress, and hope a new set was clean.

  Shaking my head to clear the negative thoughts, I watch Brock walk away to give us privacy. Smoothing the covers, I run my hands up his muscular body and reach across to make them even.

  “Will you sleep with me?” Callim’s quiet question surprises me. These beds are bigger than hospital beds on earth but putting two people in them might push it.

  “I might need to sleep on you,” I can’t help but point out with a smirk. I’m so tempted. I want to, but he probably needs to sleep.

  His slow smile makes me realize his mind’s in the gutter just like mine. When he lifts the sheet, I slide over to him and wrap myself around his side. “Do you really feel better? I’m surprised because based on what they can still see in your system, it may be weeks before the worst is over.”

  “I do.” He’s looking at the ceiling, but his hair is reaching for me. It strokes through my hair and sends comforting tingles against my neck. “Do you know what woke me up?” Tilting his head towards me, our faces are inches apart.

  “Atticus said a nightmare,” I whisper. “A hallucination about somebody you remember from the Sanctuary?”

  “I’ve had time to remember more about it.” He’s whispering too and his eyes flicker past me towards Brock. “I don’t believe it was a hallucination. Touch here.” He grabs my hand on his chest and tugs it up to a spot on his upper arm. “Feel up and down for the bump.”

  Callim’s voice has dropped even lower as he waits for me to follow his instructions. Slowly, I run my fingers up and down his upper arm, moving in small circles. It takes a couple minutes, and he gives me direction as I get closer. Sure enough, there’s a large bump about the size of a quarter.

  “What does this mean?” Hissing in the dim light, I stretch across him to see if I can see anything in the center of the hard, raised spot. Yep, it’s red. Like an injection point.

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure what to think.” Callim looks at me as I swivel to check on the doctors. My first instinct in to call them over. It looks like Atticus went back to bed and we only have one babysitter now.

  “It appears you were given an injection.” His blank face makes me wonder if they even have shots? Everything we’ve been given so far has been given in water orally. I wish they had stuff like that on Earth when I was a kid. “A shot?” I explain. “A needle stuck into your skin to administer something?”

  “Oh. No. I’ve never had that done before.” Callim looks haunted and almost—afraid. Which of course, I can sense too, and it makes me afraid. What’s going on with him?

  “Tell me about your time with Mila.” It’s time to change the subject. “Hannah will want to be informed and just in case—you know?” I don’t need to point out he hasn’t been coherent for a day now. “Did she give you anything when you were with her? Nanups? Anything that could be construed as drugs somehow?”

  “No.” He jerks, looking at me
quickly. “She had me wear a patch when I went to bed. She said it had vitamins for deficiencies she discovered at my first exam. Is that what you mean?”

  “Exactly! We need to tell Hannah, Atticus, and Brock. About the patch—and about this guy that gave you something. Vekel?” My voice is rising in excitement, but Callim slides down, pulling me up at the same time.

  Our heads rest side by side on the pillow as he looks me in the eyes seriously. “I don’t want to tell them about Vekel. They already assume I hallucinated him and… maybe I did?”

  Now he’s changing his story? What the fuck? “What aren’t you telling me?” Squinting my eyes, I try to relax and see what I feel from him. He’s still scared. “Who is this guy and why are you scared of him?”

  Callim takes a deep breath and I don’t expect him to cough up any info on the guy. But then he starts talking, still keeping his voice low. “Our pods were groups of males together. We shared schooling, eating, and sleeping quarters. Each pod had a lead. Ours was named Coran. He was decent and lived with us full-time. That included sharing meals and sleeping quarters.”

  His eyes become unfocused, and I can tell he’s remembering back. “I don’t understand the system and how Coran ended up the pod lead for us, but it’s a great responsibility. They answer to the pod heads. Ours was named Funjim, and each head had three pod leads that reported to him. So Vekel is a pod head—just not mine.”

  Turning more on his back, he pulls me up onto his chest and wraps his arms around me, whispering into my ear. Maybe he feels better holding me? Of course, I don’t protest. “The day I was taken from the Sanctuary, Funjim, my pod head, came in with the Sacred Mother. They walked around me before leaving the room I was in. I’d heard that the pod heads answered directly to the Sacred Mother but that confirmed it. Vekel though… he was different. Evil.” His arms tighten involuntarily. “He was known for his punishments with the whip. We all had to watch when that happened.”