The Butterfly Code

by Wyshynski, Sue

  “We’re passing over a reef,” Gage says. He flicks a switch, and the alarm goes silent.

  I lick my lips, which have gone bone-dry. How could I have forgotten to bring my silver pill after what happened? “We should head back.”

  He eases off the throttle. “What about lunch? Are you getting seasick?”

  “No! No, I’m fine. I just—I changed my mind.”

  “Come on, Aeris,” Ella says. “Lunch won’t take that long. And we can get it to go if you’re so worried about people seeing you.”

  “Wait, let her be,” Gage says. “What’s going on Aeris? Is something wrong?”

  “I forgot my medicine. How long will it take to get back?”

  “An hour if I gun it. Do you want me to?”

  My hands are icy slick. An hour? At this point, it’s already way too late.

  Maybe what happened last time I was late taking my silver pill was a coincidence. In fact, it’s been more than two hours and I’m perfectly fine. No flames. No heat. If anything, I’m a little chilly. Yes, it was definitely a coincidence. The attack happened only minutes after I took my dosage. In fact, it could have been the dosage itself that caused it.

  I’d be sick by now, wouldn’t I?

  I feel free out here. I don’t want to go back yet. I chew on my lower lip. On the other hand, what if it was because I’d been late taking it? Ian and Victoria had been so insistent that I follow the dosage rules. I rub my face.

  “I hate to be a downer, but I need to go home.”

  The white bird cries out and banks over the waves. It spears a fish, and the fish wiggles desperately to get free. I watch the bird wheel off. It heads for land, for some hidden nest where it can devour its prey in privacy.

  The tremor begins in my right hand. Shaking overtakes my fingers. Ella is talking. I smile at her and clench them to make them stop.

  White heat explodes behind my eyelashes. Convulsions rip through me. My arms and legs hammer wildly, sending me tumbling out of my seat, scattering cushions until my flailing casts are hammering against the fiberglass deck. Frantic, I open my mouth in agony. Hellfire licks at my brain. My scream is so hot it turns the air into billows of scorching mist.

  Ella is screaming, too. “Oh my god! Call 911! What’s happening to her? Call 911!”

  The world becomes a blur of whining engine noise, a wild slamming place as the boat crashes over crest after crest. Wailing sirens and blinding flashes of red light rip through my distorted consciousness.

  An ambulance.

  The shore.

  People.

  Gage’s huge hands restrain me, carrying me to land.

  “Careful with her,” he barks at the four medics it takes to strap me to the gurney.

  Sweat pours from every inch of my body. Crowds press in and I can’t breathe.

  “Get away,” I beg.

  The ambulance walls close around me. The door slams shut and we’re off, wailing and careening in a van of beeping equipment. Medicine. The word flares. Medicine! I force my heavy eyes wide and struggle to focus on the faces around me. Something creepy is going on. The people are not normal. They look alien and strange. I curl away in revulsion.

  There he is—Gage—the one who can help. He’s beside me. Why are his features all wrong? Ugly and horrifying. A wild impulse to attack sends my arms lurching for his throat. The restraints check my assault. I sob in frustration.

  What am I doing? It’s Gage! My friend.

  “Hang on.” He squeezes my arm. “We’re almost at the hospital.”

  “I need my medicine.” Sweat pours from my scalp. “My medicine!”

  “They’ll know what to do.”

  “No! It’s in my room. Dad knows. Please!” I gasp. “I need my medicine!”

  It’s like a mantra. Over and over I repeat the words, crying, wailing, whispering, pleading. Down the streets. Across the emergency unloading area. Through the antiseptic hallways filled with monster-faced patients and brutish alien workers with hungry eyes. What has happened to the world? Why has everyone turned to demons? Or have they all been this way and I never noticed?

  The gurney flies through a pair of double doors. I thrash hard, my body on fire, my mind clenched with the need to attack.

  A woman, white-masked, bends over me. I bare my teeth at her, growling.

  “This should calm you down.”

  The needle pierces my belly. I sink away from her into a dim, raging hole of fire.

  A cool, familiar hand touches my forehead. I sigh into it, filled with impressions of comfort and home. My eyes flutter open and Dad’s mountain-man face peers into mine.

  “Feeling better?”

  I dry swallow. “Much.” Then I bolt upright. “My medicine.”

  “I gave it to you an hour ago.”

  “The silver one? How did you know?”

  His tone is vague. “The instructions on the label.”

  How much does he know about my cure? Because more than ever, I’m certain it’s not normal. “What did the doctor say about me?” I ask, studying his reaction.

  “You had a high fever and a blood test came back showing low glucose levels. She said either of those could have caused your seizures. She put you on a glucose drip and is thinking about antibiotics, but your fever’s down. She thinks it was probably the shock of being out in the boat, combined with too little to eat. Right now, she’s keeping you under observation.”

  He gives no sign of suspecting anything beyond that.

  Then again, he did give me the silver pill. “What do you think, Dad?”

  “I think I’m worried as hell. I wish you hadn’t gone out on that boat.”

  My head flops back. “I’m sorry, Dad. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

  He squeezes my hand.

  “I’m freaked out,” I whisper. “I’m scared about the drugs I’m taking.”

  “I am, too, Peanut. As soon as you’re out of here, we’re making a visit to the PRL.”

  So he does know Hunter’s methods were unorthodox. I can see it in his face.

  “Maybe we should talk to the doctor,” I whisper.

  The color drains from his cheeks. “No. Hunter warned against you seeing a doctor. He said they might take you off your meds, and that could cause serious problems.” His voice is low, urgent. “I’m sorry, I almost lost you a few weeks ago. Hunter has medicines that aren’t exactly in the public domain. You wouldn’t be here without him. I want us to go there tomorrow before we decide anything further.”

  All this time we’ve been hiding our knowledge from each other.

  Movement catches my eye, and I glance out the door of the sterile hospital room to see Gage and Ella in the hall. Their faces no longer resemble scary monster masks. They simply look concerned. Whatever happened to me clearly twisted my vision into insanity.

  Tentatively, Gage steps inside. “You okay, Aeris?”

  “Yeah. Turns out I just needed a shot of sugar.”

  “Jesus, Aeris,” Ella says. “You scared me shitless.”

  “I scared myself,” I reply.

  The hospital bustle resounds through the half-open door: loudspeaker announcements, carts wheeling past, the squeaky shoes of nurses.

  “Can we go home?” I ask Dad.

  His face is grim. “They want to keep you overnight for observation.”

  Dread creeps over me, shortening my breath. “Dad,” I whisper, “I need to get out of here.”

  “I know. It’s easier this way. It’s only until tomorrow.”

  “I’ll stay with you,” Gage volunteers.

  “No,” Dad says. “I’ll do that myself. Better get your boat back. It’ll be getting dark.”

  At six, after a horrible meal of powdered mashed potatoes and dry chicken, I banish Dad to the cafeteria.

  “You should probably get something to eat, too,” I tell him.

  He nods. “I won’t be long.”

  I’m left with the pinging of strange machines and sheets that smell of vi
negar and bleach.

  With him gone, my mind flashes back to my monstrous hallucinations. Gage and Ella had looked inhuman. Grotesque. Like hideous bogeymen. I’d wanted to attack them, kill them. What had come over me? What if it happens again? I could hurt someone I care about. Like Dad or Sammy.

  With nervous hands, I crumple and uncrumple the covers until they’re damp with sweat.

  From the hallway, heavy boots blend in with the patter of orthopedic footwear. I quail under a sudden fear that Iron-fist has come after me. What if he’s tracked me here, to this bed? Waited for Dad to leave the room so he could get me alone?

  The footsteps carry on past my door.

  My muscles unclench, and clammy sweat drips down my ribs. I’m exhausted, bone deep. I stay awake long enough for Dad to return and then nod off into a numb, dreamless sleep.

  The sound of low, urgent voices tugs me awake. I blink in the dim light of dawn and see Gage and Dad in the light of the doorway. I fumble for my red pills, gulp them down, and hide the bag back under my hoodie.

  “What’s happening?” I ask, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

  “The store’s on fire,” Dad says. “Firefighters are working to put it out.”

  I recoil at the grisly news. “On fire?”

  Gage says, “I came right away so your Dad could go back.”

  “Dad, hurry—what are you waiting for?”

  His hands are in fists. “I’m not comfortable leaving you.”

  “Gage can take me home. The police need you there. Go.”

  He mauls his neck, haggard with shock.

  “I’m serious, Dad, go. What about Sammy? What if something’s happened to him?”

  He nods once. “All right. You’ll only be here for another hour or two. They said they’d release you when the doctor comes in around seven. I told them Gage is a relative. He’ll be able to stay in the room.”

  He kisses my forehead, and then he’s gone.

  “Don’t look at me like I’m some wretched casualty,” I tell Gage.

  “I wasn’t.”

  “You were and it’s unnerving. I’m just injured, temporarily. I’m still me. Still the same person.” I hope.

  “Duh, of course you are. Even if your hair is a little greasier than usual.”

  I roll my eyes. “Great, thanks, that makes me feel so much better.”

  “Here,” he says. “Move over.”

  “What are you doing?” I say on a laugh.

  “Joining the team.”

  “Ow, hey!” I say as he shifts me over a few inches and lies down on his back next to me.

  “Boy, they don’t exactly make these beds comfortable, do they?”

  “That’s because you don’t fit.”

  “And what are these sheets made of? Small-grit sandpaper?”

  “Stop it,” I say. “Someone’s going to come!”

  “You’re right.” He puts a finger to my lips.

  I snort and let my head flop back onto the pillow. We stare at the ceiling in silence.

  “You really freaked me out yesterday.” His voice is uneven.

  “Hey, I thought you were joining my team.”

  “I’m trying to, Aeris.” He shifts so he’s looking down at me. Then his stubble is grazing my lips and his mouth is pressed against mine.

  For a moment, I’m so caught off guard I’m motionless.

  His familiar, callused hands weave into my hair, and his chest presses down against mine. I can feel his pulse slamming. This is Gage, my best friend. And this is all wrong. I struggle away, afraid—not of him but of the hurt I’ll see in his cornflower-blue eyes.

  It’s why I’ve desperately tried to keep this moment from ever occurring.

  “Gage, stop. Gage!” The words are crushed against his lips, and my indignation is rising. Hurt be damned, I don’t want this. With my casts, it’s hard to get my arms in position to push. I do, finally, and shove at his chest. It’s rock hard, like flesh over steel armor.

  “Stop it. Quit it!”

  He jerks back. I don’t say a word, because he’s reading it all in my eyes. His face flushes. He slumps away from me, head falling onto the pillow, one muscular arm thrown over his face.

  “Sorry.”

  “Look, you’re one of my best friends. You know how much you mean to me. It would kill me to lose you. I just—I don’t want that.”

  The arm stays in place. Is he mad?

  “I don’t want to lose you, either,” he murmurs.

  His voice is thick. He can’t possibly be … crying, can he? I want to comfort him. Instead, I pluck at the dirty edges of my fiberglass cast where it’s gone all jagged.

  From the doorway comes the sound of a woman clearing her throat. An unfamiliar doctor stands there dressed in a green shower-cap-style hat and shoe coverings. Her arms are crossed and her lips compressed.

  Gage slides out of the bed, shoves his hands in his pockets, but remains next to me.

  “Hi, Doctor,” I say, acting like she didn’t just see us kissing. “I’m ready to get signed out.”

  She gestures at someone in the hall. Wheels creak outside the doorway, and then two aides step inside, pushing a gurney. That’s odd. Maybe the wheelchairs are all in use? It’ll be kind of strange to get pushed out to Gage’s truck on that thing.

  “I just need a minute to change out of my hospital gown.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” the doctor says, coming to fuss over me with her stethoscope.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, laughing. “I’m not wearing this thing home.”

  She fails to smile. “We need to perform a few more tests.”

  “What are you talking about? I’m supposed to leave.”

  “I’ve been ordered to perform a series of labs.”

  “By who?”

  “I received a call from the authorities, and I have to follow up.”

  “What authorities?” I demand, my voice harsh to hide my concern.

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss that.”

  I glance at Gage. His cheeks are pink. Is it a hangover from our kiss or something more? A few days ago, he’d practically ordered me to visit a regular doctor to make sure I was all right. I’d refused. I recall his awful stint in the military. Could he be suspicious enough of Hunter to have contacted one of the investigators on their case?

  I stare at him. Can’t he just be happy I’m alive?

  “Who did you call?” I say.

  There’s a beat.

  I’m suddenly furious. “Gage?”

  “No one. But I’m glad someone did. They should check you out.”

  “I don’t want to be checked out. I thought you were on my team. You told my dad you’d take me home!”

  “And I will. God, Aeris, I’m on your side.”

  I turn to the doctor. “How did these authorities hear about me? Did they just call you out of the blue?”

  “We file reports on all patients in a central database. Your name was flagged as a person of interest. You’re the woman who crashed outside the Phoenix Research Lab for Highly Contagious Diseases, correct?” She emphasizes the words contagious diseases. “Apparently the PRL falls within some governmental jurisdiction. The government has the right to do some checking up.”

  “I’m not giving you permission for this. You have no legal right.”

  The two aides strong-arm me onto the gurney. With an ominous clank, bars rise into place so that I can’t roll off.

  “I was told I could go home. I’m a free person, a citizen. You need my permission before you do any extra tests.”

  “Not when the order comes from a higher authority. You’re being investigated as a public health risk.”

  “A public health risk? That’s absurd. Who’s this authority?”

  She sighs. “If you don’t want me to perform the tests, you’re free to talk to my contact. However, I guarantee he’ll simply repeat what I’ve told you. Is there some reason you don’t want to cooperate?”

  “I
need to call my dad. Right now.”

  His phone rings and rings. I try three times. A fourth. Still no answer.

  “Aeris.” Gage puts his hand on mine. “His store is on fire.”

  My hair is sticking to my forehead. I swipe it away and dry swallow.

  “It’s your call. What do you want me to do, Miss Thorne?” the doctor says. “I think you’re overreacting. These tests are for your own good.”

  Maybe she’s right. Maybe they are. Despite what Dad said earlier, it’s not my job to keep things secret.

  If only I’d taken the silver pill on time. If only I’d never come to this hospital. If only I knew what Hunter did to me. He should have told me.

  I guess now I’ll find out.

  A janitor pushes a mop past the doorway, leaving a trail of pine-laced antiseptic fumes. They assault my nose and make my head ache. Perhaps this is for the best.

  “All right,” I say, committed now. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Lights blare down from the lab ceiling. Bleach and sanitizing hand-wash scent the air. There’s a thermometer clenched between my teeth. A needle protrudes from the back of my hand. Crimson blood flows into a tube. Cold instruments prod my skin. I cringe and struggle to remain calm.

  I can’t. I’m scared stiff. Of what, I’m not even sure.

  Two aides lift me onto an X-ray table. Impersonal, gloved hands shift me into position and drape me with a heavy, rubberized shield. The clammy weight presses against my thin hospital gown. Machines whir and click. The process is repeated until I’ve been twisted and laid out in every possible position.

  I watch the face of the X-ray tech, behind his window. His face shows nothing. When he steps out into the hall, it’s another story. He’s babbling, shocked.

  I cower on the table.

  “What did you find?” I demand when the X-ray tech returns, jutting out my jaw.

  “It’s not my place to say.”

  “I want to call my dad.”

  “Discuss that with your doctor.”

  I’m furious now, desperate to get out and away from these people. I’m wheeled into another room. When the doctor enters, I practically shout my request.

  She nods. “We’ll be releasing you shortly.”

  I’m so surprised my tongue merely stutters out a relieved “Oh.”

  She goes to a metal rack and removes an instrument. It looks like a power saw. The device whirs to life, and she takes my wrist, pressing the blade against the plaster.