by Holly Hook
It would also be almost impossible to escape at night with all these guards. I'd either have to wait for a rainy day or wait for someone to launch an attack and distract the guards. So far, I heard no drops pattering on the roof.
But as the night wore on, the place got quieter except for patrolling boots. Doctors stopped talking to each other and nobody wheeled carts around. The air felt serious and Grimes did not come back.
As most of the sounds quieted, though, others emerged. My hearing might still amaze, but distractions still existed, so it wasn't foolproof. With the other noises gone, I could listen.
Outside, animals scurried around the woods. Something beeped inside the building when something ran up a tree. It must be one of the motion detectors. A guard in a security room two halls away told another that it was just an animal. So they must have cameras out there, too. "Coyotes are digging under the fence," one said. "Grimes brought that up earlier."
"The crew will arrive to extend the fence downward next week," another said.
"He moved that up to tomorrow."
"But what about the creek? Electricity and water don't mix."
"He talked about filling it in."
"Then it will flood the road. He can't cover that up."
I hadn't been paying much attention until now, but as soon as one guard mentioned a creek, I heard it.
Running water. It ran in from the road and must come from deeper in the countryside. As I listened, I realized I could make out the curves and rougher areas of the water. But closer to the building, the gurgling cut off, as if the creek entered a tunnel at some point. It painted a picture in my mind, and I was learning that my senses were very good at that.
I closed my eyes and waited for the guards to stop talking. They did. I heard the water parting against metal—a tube, maybe, as it entered the underground. So there was a drainage tunnel that the creek ran into somewhere.
As I focused harder, I realized something else.
The tunnel of water flowed underneath this building, joining with a large sewer line.
The echoes were faint, but the picture blossomed in my mind. This place had a basement with a humming boiler, plenty of pipes, and only a brick wall separating it from the water flow. The creek ran into the grounds from outside, through a fence that wasn't closed all the way, and led right to the basement.
I opened my eyes. It took everything I had not to free myself from the chair.
I had found the way Bathory and her minions would get inside.
Chapter Eleven
It made sense. I could hold my breath for at least fifteen minutes and see in the dark. So could Alyssa. That meant an old vampire would have zero problems swimming through the creek, staying submerged, and dodging the motion detectors. They could swim underground and find that wall where they could break inside. I could see no other way for the Mother to get inside before the military got called.
Now Richard Grimes wanted to fill in the creek, making it impossible for her to get in. He knew of the weak spot. It was no wonder he called the meeting.
But it might also be a way out. I listened to the underground creek for about an hour, trying to map it in my head. It flowed under the facility and took away wastewater. Where it flowed, I wasn't sure, because the sound faded away from the building. I hoped it didn't flow underground for too long. And I wasn't sure how good werewolves could hold their breath, but George might not need to take the creek if he could shift and fight.
The thought of swimming in dirty water in an enclosed tunnel didn't make me smile, but it was our best shot. I'd have to make my move before anyone attacked—Bathory, Xavier or otherwise. I wondered if Alyssa and Brendan knew I was missing yet. Mom, no. I was supposed to be at Maisha's.
Like Brendan would care. I stepped on the guy's toes without trying. Who was he—Bathory in disguise? She had that same attitude. Only, she liked to break my bones if I offended her. Brendan just shut me out and played video games.
Dawn crept into my room through my closed curtains. I hadn't slept. Bad idea. I seemed to be full of those. What was I doing, anyway? I wasn't Alyssa. Why did I think that having some enhanced senses made me cool and able to deal with this stuff? I'd barely escaped the ATC Tower, and that was thanks to Xavier risking his neck.
Thinking of the torture to come today left me filled with doubts. Along with the sun came everything that could go wrong. George would be weakening. My own limbs trembled. I bet I could smash through a simple brick wall if I could bash in skulls of old vampires, but if I didn't act soon, I might not have the strength.
The day went as the last one had. My orderly took me to torture right before lunch, after several hours of boring talk shows, life insurance commercials and more soap operas. The mean doctor (who, I noticed, also wore no name tag) waited with that curtain and did the difficult job of holding it back until I convulsed. I didn't even give her much attitude today. Maybe I was thinking too much, or the weakness was getting to me.
"You went an extra three seconds today," she said.
"It still hurt."
"But you went an extra three seconds. And you didn't scream."
"That might be because there are more clouds today." I eyed the gray light behind the now-closed curtain. The clouds were thin, only allowing a faint orb to shine through, but the glow was painful enough. The ATC was trying to make itself believe its treatments could work.
The doctor didn't listen. "I also have news. We got the equipment to transfuse Normal blood into our patients. That will improve your tolerance to the sun. We are still working out the schedule, but you may take a trip down this afternoon for your first treatment."
It was the friendliest thing she'd said so far. Until then, I had forgotten that I'd read about that. The ATC would do the opposite of what Bathory planned for them. Maybe she'd even gotten the plan on how to Turn anybody from the ATC. Well, the Normals who cooperated with her in exchange for their lives. And, lucky for her, she'd have the equipment set up for her once she got here. She'd strap the guards down and do what she'd done to Brendan. I didn't wish that torture on anyone.
That was if the military didn't get involved. Maybe.
I did my listening run as the orderly wheeled me to my room to sit for fifteen minutes before lunch. George must already be in the cafeteria, bracing for humiliation.
It was then I heard a familiar sound from the back of the building: the beeping of a van backing up to the unloading area. They had brought in a new patient.
I listened as guards swarmed the area. I could hear even from the cafeteria. Whoever they were taking off the back of the van tried to thrash against the shackles that held their arms and legs. But the newcomer lost, and the guards led them deeper into the building as they had done with me.
"Where is she?" Brendan asked. "I know you have her. Janine. Where is she?"
* * * * *
Even though I was starving and starting to shake, swallowing my lunch was difficult.
The ATC had Brendan. I'd made him angry and tripped over myself in typical Janine fashion, but he'd come looking for me, anyway.
That meant that Alyssa and Xavier might be, too. Brendan would have asked them if they'd seen me. It was not what I wanted. That made it more likely that Xavier would face the truth about himself, walk up to the front gate, and use real godly powers on guards and soldiers alike. People would die. Xavier didn't know how to control his elevated powers yet. That meant us prisoners might die, too.
I knew somewhere, Brendan was getting the same VIP treatment I had.
There was no way I could talk to the guy and try to cheer him up. Not that I could do that even if we weren't captives.
And then, George saw me at lunch.
My second cousin sat at that same table on the other side of the room. His doggy smell intensified and filled the space as our gazes met. I shifted in my wheelchair, watching his jaw clench. George was furious that I was here.
Even from across the room, I could hear the l
ow growl in his throat. The woman trying to spoon feed him chopped veggies didn't even seem to hear it. My cousin wanted to shift and destroy the guards standing around the room. He must have heard the screams in this place.
I lifted my palm from the arm of the wheelchair and waved.
The doggy smell faded. None of the other vampires in the room—the same ones I'd dined around yesterday—seemed to have noticed, either. It was a sign I still had super elevated senses.
George managed a grin. Then he looked down at the spoon that the woman was holding out for him as if he'd forgotten about me. Something was off.
Did they have him on drugs?
I knew werewolves were mostly like Normals when they weren't in beast form, except that they, too, had great senses. Normal drugs might work on George. It was another level of security other than the silver chains.
The orderly rolled me out of the room as soon as I'd finished the bottle in front of me. Again, it did nothing to stop my hunger. Salads didn't fill up Normals, so why would one satisfy me? I needed blood infused with a bigger, better meal.
Like the barbecue ribs that were coursing through the orderly's veins.
Every inch of me wanted to tear out of that chair and stop hiding my real strength. But I held back. I'd have one chance to make my move. Once the ATC realized how strong and fast I was, they'd bump me up a few security levels. Was there such thing as super security? Epic security? It would be a level above maximum.
I stayed quiet. My limbs trembled. Time was running out, both for my self-control and for getting everyone out of here.
"Where's Janine?" Brendan asked from the sunroom.
They were about to start his treatments. They'd added him to the schedule right after me.
"We have no one named Janine here," the mean doctor said, pulling back the shade. "Besides, that's invasion of patient privacy to tell you who else is getting treatment."
Brendan did a better job of holding back his screams than I had, but I couldn't miss the pained groans and the curses muttered under his breath. The orderly, as if sensing that someone else was getting tortured, wheeled me to my room with a faster pace. He placed me back in front of the TV while a guard patrolled past my open door and the cameras continued to rotate.
I closed my eyes, but I couldn't shut out the sound.
At last, Brendan's torture stopped. "You may rest and go to lunch," the doctor said.
I breathed a sigh of relief but I also wanted to cry. Now two people were in here because of me.
And then a horrible thought hit me.
I hadn't told these people my real name. To them, I was still Desirae Flowers.
What if Brendan thought I wasn't here? Our paths might never cross. I guessed that due to the schedule, some patients would never see each other.
I listened as my orderly rushed down to wheel Brendan to his room. He groaned again and swore. The doctor told him to stop giving her such an attitude.
She deserved to get bitten. No. Revenge wasn't me. Except, maybe it was now. I wasn't Normal anymore. I had changed in ways I was just understanding.
All I wanted was to bring my grades up, stay up all night, and kick butt at soccer.
Now I only had one of those. I'd been an idiot to even think Turning would change my life for the better or make me better. It was no wonder Alyssa had cried when she realized she'd infected me.
"Come on, Janine," I whispered to myself. "Get everyone out of here. Do something right for once."
The orderly took Brendan out of the Sunning Room. He would wheel Brendan past my door. The squeak of his wheelchair approached. Like people, even each piece of machinery in this place had its own unique signature.
And then he did.
Brendan sat upright in his chair. He hadn't had the hope drained out of him yet. The ATC had also made him change into one of those awful gowns, and it was open in the back except for the ties that held it on. He didn't see me. Instead, he faced straight ahead, searching in the wrong place.
That was when I saw.
Brendan's human past was more horrific than a father who had gone to jail for tax evasion and a mother who wanted nothing to do with parenting.
All the way up and down his back were dozens of burn marks, each one a dark circle of pain. Someone had used him as an ashtray.
Normal scars never went away.
Chapter Twelve
I wanted to kill whoever had done this to Brendan.
But most of all, I was furious at myself.
The comments I'd made about Bathory's burn scars had hit Brendan right in his most sensitive spot. It was no wonder he stalked back upstairs to hide within his video games. It was also no wonder he wouldn't swim with us.
Maybe, before I'd opened my mouth, Brendan wanted to get into the pool with me. I'd blown any chance with him, just like I'd blown my chance of ever getting back into soccer without killing my teammates.
But Brendan had come here for me. That gave me a little hope. I tried to push it away. I didn't deserve him, the same way he'd said he didn't deserve me.
From now on, I'd keep my mouth shut about scars. It looked like we all had them. Some were visible. Others, not.
And how would I apologize? I'd have to admit to seeing his past.
I didn't have much time to think. The orderly came back for me as the sounds of other wheelchairs filled the halls. The ATC was moving many people around, and I knew why.
Transfusion time. They had readied the equipment.
The whole place filled with noise. I hadn't heard the staff setting up the tables, which told me that the transfusion area would be in a more distant part of the building I hadn't yet explored. My hearing was great, but not perfect.
"Is it needle time?" I asked the orderly.
"Yes. I won't lie, but that should be the worst part."
"Should be?" My thoughts turned to Brendan again. If he didn't get triggered by this, then he didn't have a soul.
The guy wheeled me out. George remained in the Lycanthropy Wing along with the other three werewolves. It seemed they were getting left alone for this. They had a virus. At least, the doctors thought they did.
I got wheeled through the wing, but George's door stayed shut. We went past the cafeteria area and then down a ramp to a lower level, one separate from the area with the underground creek and all the pipes. Now that the place was busy, I could no longer hear the water. Only when the upper sound layers calmed down did that come into my awareness.
The ramp led to some metal double doors complete with a lock. Two guards held them open, and they were two inches thick, meant to keep in regular vampires. The room beyond was large, with ominous hanging lights, concrete walls, and rows upon rows of hospital beds. Hanging bags of liquid—probably human blood—hung on cold posts next to each table. The ATC had gotten bags that were opaque, and the blood inside had no scent. Donated blood usually didn't.
And the room was full of doctors and nurses.
And guards. They stood by with tasers as weak patients crawled out of wheelchairs and into beds to lie down. Guards then went to work strapping patients down with metal shackles. There must be a dozen patients in the room, and Trish was one of them. She was over in the corner, giving her guards a glare of death.
They were transfusing patients in batches. It must take a while.
"Everyone," a doctor ordered, turning in the middle of the commotion. "This will take up to an hour, and will go much faster if everyone cooperates."
Then I saw Brendan. He waited, facing the wall, in his wheelchair for one group of guards to come by and force him onto the bed at gunpoint. Brendan had his shoulders raised. Every muscle tensed. He took a few quick breaths as he tried to hold it together. This would be like what Bathory had done to him, but in reverse. Just the sight of these beds and this room were enough to raise terror.
I wanted to call out to him, but I didn't want to blow my identity. Now wasn't the time. There were too many guards in the room. It was the hardes
t thing to stay silent and wait for my turn.
And I had to watch as the guards came around to Brendan. By then, the guards and doctors had gotten eight of the other patients strapped into beds. They moved fast as if they had trained and rehearsed for this for hours. Was there a school on how to deal with Abnormals? Where did the ATC train, anyway?
But, being a guy, Brendan tried to look tough as he climbed onto the bed. The guy was stronger than he looked. I caught another glimpse of his scars as he got out of the chair, hands up as the guards instructed him, and climbed onto the bed. A male doctor told him that the procedure wouldn't hurt much and that he might feel more Normal once it finished. Brendan nodded and turned to lie down.
Our gazes met.
His jaw fell.
A sadness filled his reddish eyes for a moment, but Brendan lay down to avoid making the guards think he'd seen the person he was seeking. He knew I was here and his look would haunt me for the rest of my life.
I watched as they strapped him down.
He drew a panicked breath. Brendan had plunged right back into his nightmare. "No," he said, losing it. "You don't know what I've been through. I didn't get Turned like the others. They did this before!"
The doctor nodded like he wasn't sure what to do. I trembled with hunger and rage.
And then the guards stopped by me. They unlocked my shackles and ordered me up. The four men stood back and watched, shock guns aimed at me as I climbed onto the nearby bed. On the other side of the room, the other four guards finished with the last patients.
My muscles had stiffened from sitting for so long. It took an effort to straighten out, but I climbed onto the bed and lay on my back. It took all my strength not to attack anyone. It felt as if insanity were sweeping over me. I needed food and now I knew how Alyssa felt when she lost it and bit me.
The bed had metal shackles for my wrists and ankles just like my chair had. Someone wheeled the chair out of the way while the male doctor wheeled the blood bag closer. Everywhere, people in scrubs and lab coats set up equipment. Things clicked. Machines beeped. The guards backed off, and one group exited the room to stand outside the door.
