by Sarah Gray
Chapter 19
THIS MORNING DOCTOR Hope collects me from my room and leads me into her office. It’s a nice room, deliriously neat and tidy, not a fleck of dirt on the ground or speck of dust on her desk. Not that we have any dirt here to traipse around in anyway. All her stationary is lined up in a precise row. On a tray, she has scissors, tweezers, a box of gloves, some tape and a few bandages set out.
“Sit,” she says, pulling on latex gloves. She peels back my forehead bandage. The silence becomes to weird for me, and I just can’t resist saying something, anything. “Found a cure yet?”
“Not yet,” she says, inspecting my head. “But we’ll keep looking.”
“Ok… Hey, um, I wanted to ask you something.”
“Hold still.” She picks up the scissors and starts snipping at the stitches. When she’s finished she grabs the tweezers. “Ask away.”
I feel a tugging sensation as she pulls each one out. I wonder how big the scar will be. “Do many people leave Arcadium?” I ask.
Doctor Hope pauses. The tweezers hover dangerously close to my eye. “No one leaves.” She pulls out another stitch and discards it on the tray. “Why would anyone want to leave? It’s dangerous out there.” The last stitch sticks and stings when she yanks it out. She drops her eyes to mine. “Do you want to leave?”
“No, of course not. I was just wondering if people ever do, you know, move on.”
She stares at me for way too long before setting down the tweezers. “No, they don’t.” Doctor Hope sprays something on my forehead and dabs it dry with a bandage. “I think we’ll leave this one open to the air. It’s healing well.”
Doctor Hope snaps off her gloves and drops them on the tray. “On the outside you may think it’s just a matter of surviving.” She unwraps the bandages from my hands. “But it’s not. It’s simply a question of how long your luck lasts. You can’t run and hide forever. The infection is simply too aggressive.”
“Besides, you’ll find a cure, right?”
“I think we’d all like that.”
For a moment I wonder what would happen if they found a cure tomorrow. Would we all get to stay together now that we have no one else? Would we all be able to go back to school and back to work and forget about the time the world went crazy?
Doctor Hope begins peeling off the tape and splints. My palms seem to have a permanent bandage texture imprinted on them, and my fingers have calmed down a bit; the bruises are going bright yellow. There’s still a bit of swelling but they look way better.
“I’ll need an x-ray for our records and we’ll put the splints back on just to make sure they’re healing straight. So, if you’d like to come with me.”
I follow her out into the hallway and when we turn the corner I see Adrian wandering towards us.
“Hey,” he says, waving. “What’s going on?”
I hold up my hands. “I’m getting an x-ray.”
“Cool. Mind if I tag along?”
“It’s not like you have anything better to do, is it?”
Adrian smiles and falls into step next to me. “How observant of you.”
Doctor Hope ducks into a room and we follow. Inside is a giant x-ray machine, humming beneath dim blue lighting. There’s a shield to one side, which Doctor Hope steps behind. When she returns she straps something that looks like a bulletproof vest to me. “To shield you from excess radiation,” she explains.
She places my hand on the machine.
“What about my arm then?” I say.
Doctor Hope and Adrian step behind the shield and I hear Adrian call out, “It’s only your vital organs they worry about. The rest doesn’t matter.”
Great, so when my arm falls off later from too much radiation, it won’t matter. Unless it gives me super powers that allow me to dispatch pesky infected people with a mere flick of the wrist. I could deal with that.
“Stay still,” Doctor Hope calls.
I take a deep breath and watch them behind the shield.
A few minutes later comes the call, “All done.”
She steps out from behind her shield, whips off my protective gear and powers down the machine. Soon Adrian and I are following her back into her office.
She tapes my fingers back together. On my left hand she has to use a splint and loads of tape to keep them straight but on my right hand she just needs a bit of tape. “All done,” she says. “Adrian, would you mind letting her out, I have to get back to work. And don’t forget you’re having brunch with your father today.”
Adrian groans. “How could I forget when everyone keeps reminding me?” He turns to me. “Let’s get out of here before anyone else mentions it.” He leaps up and pulls the door open like he’s in the middle of a tantrum. Outside he just smiles. “You look different without your giant bandages everywhere.”
I smile as best I can but really it’s just so he doesn’t see the awkwardness I feel. “Brunch with daddy?” I say.
Adrian rolls his eyes. We reach the coded glass door and he punches in the digits. “I get called upon every now and then. He tries to teach me stuff. It’s so boring.”
“Well, you have fun then,” I say, grinning.
The door closes with a soft bump and he waves and turns away. Now that Adrian’s otherwise engaged, Kean and Trouble are already at work, and Liss and Henry are tied up with school, I literally have nothing to do, and no one to do it with. Actually it’s weird, I haven’t really had free time since we got here. No privacy in the shower, no privacy at night, no moment of peace at meals. Every other second is spent entertaining Liss and Henry, or trying to communicate with Trouble, or having those moments with Kean.
I haven’t had a moment to myself, a safe moment, in so long. I step into my room and stop. My jaw drops open as the door clunks closed behind me. It doesn’t look like I’m going to get my alone time today.
“Who are you?” I say. It seems the only sensible thing to say, because sitting on the top spare bunk is a man with thick dark hair, olive tanned skin and a rough stubbled chin. He looks across at me as if I’ve just broken into his home. We kind of stare at each other wide eyed and mildly horrified. He’s wearing the same uniform as me but I can’t recall ever seeing him before.
“I take it you live here, too?” he says.
I nod.
“I’m Jacob.” He holds out his hand. I glance down at my damaged fingers but reach my hand up anyway. He’s remarkably gentle.
“This is the free bunk?” he says.
“Yeah.”
“Good. I just… kind of guessed. It’s all new.”
I sit on the edge of Henry’s bed. “You’re the man from quarantine…” I push my hair behind my ears. “Um, three six two, right?”
Jacob narrows his eyes. I become acutely aware that he’s in his very late twenties, way taller and stronger than me, and could probably take me down in seconds.
“How did you know?”
“I… uh… saw you in decontamination.”
“Decontamination is off limits to civilians,” he says, his voice husky with recrimination.
Now it’s my turn to be suspicious. “How did you know? I thought this was all new for you.”
Jacob tips his head to one side and considers me with his dark eyes. Suddenly he jumps down off the top bunk and lands nimbly on the ground. The thud echoes in the tiny space. Jacob sits on Liss’ bed. “I’ll tell you my secrets if you tell me yours.”
I blink back at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He sucks air in between his two front teeth and presses his lips closed again. “How long have you been in here?”
“About four days. Four conscious days.”
Jacob whistles. “A newbie.” He nods slowly, watching me. “I get it now.”
“So, you’re not new then?”
“I am, here in… what do they call this one?”
“Arcadium.”
“Arcadium. Has a nice ring to it. There are more, in different subur
bs. I came from one in Brighton.”
“Why did you leave?”
A crooked smile passes over his lips. “I didn’t have a choice. It was overrun with infected and they hit the kill switch.”
“What do you mean, kill switch?”
“The self destruct mechanism for any… accidents. They have one here too, you know.” He laughs like it’s all so funny. The sound haunts the air around me.
“I didn’t know that.”
“Little girl, I assume there’s not much you do know about this place. Who else are we rooming with?”
“Uh… my sister, Liss. That’s her bunk you’re on. Kean and Henry — he’s in a wheelchair. And Trouble.”
“We’re rooming with… Trouble?” His eyes sparkle with amusement.
“Yeah, it’s a nickname, he only knows one word of English.”
“It’s a good word to know.”
“Yeah.”
“Have you been on the outside this whole time?”
I shrug. “Yeah.”
“That’s pretty tough.”
“We’re a handy group.”
Jacob drops his chin and raises his eyebrows. “You mean to tell me that you were on the outside with a kid in a wheel chair and a guy that speaks zero English?”
“Why is that so hard for everyone to believe?”
Jacob laughs and waves his hand. “Well, I just can’t wait to meet the rest of the family.” He runs a hand over his stubble. “I don’t know why you came here though.”
“Because it’s safe,” I say.
Jacob laughs again but it’s lacking all humour. “Little girl, do you have any idea what they do here?”
“They’re finding a cure.”
“That they are. It’s true.”
I sit back further on the bed. “What do you mean? What else do they do?”
“It takes a secret to unlock a secret.”
“But I don’t know any.”
He sighs. “Well I’ll give you a free one, since you seem like a good tough kid. If you ever see blue flashing lights and maybe hear a siren, you have thirty minutes to get out of this place. Red means ten minutes. Then…” He makes an explosion noise, then taps his temple. “Flashing lights remember?” He chuckles to himself and stands. “I’ve got things to do. I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah,” I say, watching him leave. “See you later.”
When I’m alone again I feel this creeping sense of dread. What the hell was he talking about? And if he’s right… we’re sitting on a time bomb. The urge to run straight to Kean overwhelms me. I need to tell him we’re rooming with a death prophet, tell him what he said about Arcadium. I need to find him right now and tell him what my gut is screaming.
We have to leave.
I burst into the corridor and race to the workers meeting point, but when I get there it’s completely deserted. I double back to the mess hall and check the gym and library, but I can’t find the clean up crew anywhere. I sweep back past my room and Adrian steps out into my path, stopping me like a barricade. “Hey,” I say, out of breath, trying to play it cool.
He crosses his arms. “Where you running to?”
“I’m just trying to find the cleaning crew. Do you know where they are?”
There’s something defensive about the way he’s standing, blocking my path with his body.
“Adrian, are you ok?”
He stares at me for a moment. “Hope told me you were leaving.”
“What?”
“She said you were trying to leave.” He runs his tongue across his teeth. “Are you trying to leave me?”
“No!” I don’t have to try to look surprised because I am. “I have no idea why she’d say that. And where would I go? It’s safe here, it makes sense.” I stare back at him to prove I’m not going anywhere.
“So, you’re not?”
“No. Don’t be stupid. I don’t want to die.” Which is exactly why I want to leave this place. At least on the outside we were free.
Adrian looks away and laughs suddenly. “It is stupid, isn’t it? You can’t just leave Arcadium. How would you get out?”
Ok, that’s a creepy statement but I put on my most normal smile. I draw the line at laughing along with him though. If this outbreak has changed me in any way, I’m now a fantastic actor slash professional liar.
“So, you want to get some lunch?” he asks. “Maybe watch the security cameras?”
“I thought you just had brunch?”
“Yeah, but who cares. You haven’t had anything.”
Somehow I know I’m not going to be able to shake him, but maybe I can buy myself a little time. “Ok. You go get lunch and I’ll try and find the clean up crew. Meet you there?”
Adrian drops his shoulders and uncrosses his arms. “I am so good to you,” he says. “Come here.”
He walks me to the end of the corridor and pushes open a door. It looks just like all the other sleeping quarter doors except it has no door handle. “Down there I bet. Hold your nose.”
“Thanks.” I peer down the dimly lit stairwell. “Oh, hey.”
Adrian looks over his shoulder.
“Can you see if they’ve got any cake… please?”
He throws back his head and laughs. “The things I do for you.”
Yeah like showing me around, and smuggling me food I should be able to eat anyway. Thanks a lot. I watch him walk away and realise how much I dislike him. He makes me feel cynical and dark. He makes me suspicious, makes me lie and pretend. Nothing around Adrian is real.
I have to find Kean. I hurry down the stairwell, listening to the tiny echoes my footsteps make in the cramped space. There’s a slow dripping sound too, somewhere off in the distance, and the air feels heavy and damp. Weak yellow lights are spread at intervals across the ceiling but not all of them work.
At the bottom is a corridor stretching in two directions. To the right, it snakes away round a corner and to the left is a coded door with a yellow and black biohazard sticker. I stare at it for a second and walk over, pressing my ear against the door. I can’t hear anything. The door feels strangely cold, like a refrigerator. The light above me flickers.
I glance over my shoulder but I can’t walk away, my curiosity won’t let me. A peek won’t hurt. I punch in the code with my thumb and when the code-box makes a tiny beep I push the door open.
The smell hits me first. I linger at the threshold, inhaling the salty sourness. I have to press my thumb under my nose to stop myself from dry retching.
The basement room is a cavernous space, ominously quiet and full of shadows. In huge square trolleys, twice the height of me, hang bright yellow bags. They stretch as far as I can see, each one carrying the biohazard sign. The yellow plastic is thick, impossible to see through, but I can tell by the way it juts out in places that they hold something: maybe laundry or medical stuff. It could be anything.
I step in and chock the door open with a wayward broom. My creeping unease makes me feel like I need that open exit. I keep glancing over my shoulder as I move down the row of trolleys.
With my spare hand, I press my good fingers onto one of the hidden lumps. It’s soft and moves around my intrusion, so I’m eighty percent sure I’m in the laundry room. But laundries shouldn’t be this quiet, should they? Where is the thrumming, whirring machinery… unless everything gets hand washed here? Oh I bet that was going to be my job too. But if Arcadium can support three hundred people and a whole laboratory, surely they could spare some power for washing machines.
I spin around but it all looks the same, just rows and rows of huge trolleys in the dim grimy space. Overhead, metal walkway hangs and I follow it along the roof, back towards the door. It weaves to the left and I duck between the trolleys, still sealing my nostrils with my thumb. Against the wall I see a metal staircase ascending to the walkway. If I get up there I can see the whole room in one glance: see what’s in the trolleys and make sure the cleaning crew isn’t down the other end.
I
slide my hand over the railing and move quietly. Each step lifts me up higher until finally I’m hovering over one of the trolleys.
I peer over the railing, leaning out as far as I can, staring at the dark mass within the plastic, but I can’t make it out, it’s too shadowy. I glance around, looking for a light source. At the base of the stairs is a kind of switch box and I wonder if I’d be able to turn on more lights.
I skip down the stairs and swing open the door to the box, peering at all the switches. I don’t even need to try them. At the base of the box is a small silver torch.
I pull it out, turn it on and this time I jog up the stairs; the narrow torch beam bounces off the metal.
It’ll only take Adrian about ten minutes to scrounge us up some lunch so I have to be quick. I don’t want him to come looking for me.
I lean over the railing and hold out the torch. The instant the beam hits the contents of the trolley I reel back, sucking in a huge gasp of air. Decaying arms and legs cross over each other, faces stuck in torturous hungry snarls stare up from the dark. Twenty sets of infected eyes glint in the torchlight, like maybe they’ve still got life left in them. But everything is still in the trolley. Still and dead.
The room is full of trolleys. Full of dead infected. Hundreds of them. Right below our feet. The whole time.
I step back so fast I forget I’m on steps and when my foot moves there’s nothing left to support it. I tumble over and over, rolling sideways down the stairs. Clattering fills the air and I land on my side, sliding onto the concrete ground. I don’t feel hurt but then I’m probably too much in shock to feel anything but horror.
In seconds I’m on my feet and sprinting, weaving through the trolleys full of infected people.
I’m still clutching the torch as I kick the broom away and speed out into the corridor. The door slams shut behind me and I don’t stop. I have to find Kean and Trouble. Now.
