by Kate Breuer
“Then I’ll walk back down to the first floor and open this side door.” Another tap on the map. “And let you in. Together we’ll go to the fourth floor where the labs are, and we’ll swap Willow’s sample with the sample of Nina’s friend.”
“And then we get the fuck out of Dodge,” Tien finishes for me with a big grin on his face.
I recited the plan in my head all night long. Mira and Tien nod along as I rattle it off. They know the plan as well as I do, but I need to do this right now. It has made me feel better, well enough even to finish my breakfast. A few minutes later, as I scrape the last crumbles of eggs from my plate, Nina and Dale enter the kitchen.
“Everything settled?” I ask and tilt my head toward the bedroom where Willow is sleeping.
“Yes, they will be perfectly fine. I woke up Willow enough to let her know Nina will look after her, but she’s already back to sleep. Didn’t want her waking up with us gone.” I didn’t think about that, and am grateful Dale let her know it’s okay.
Mira checks her watch and announces it’s time to go. I regret eating my breakfast instantly as the nervousness and fear come crashing back. This is suddenly feeling way too real.
The disguises I grabbed from work yesterday are safely packed in a large bag Tien is carrying. It wasn’t quite as easy to get them as I originally thought. Between Betsy and the camera in the corner, it took quite a bit of scheming to get them out.
I’ll probably be in trouble next time the overseer checks the footage. He’ll see I dropped a whole box of neatly sorted sewing pins, and that it cost Betsy and me an hour to clean up the mess. An hour in which I shifted things around to have access to what I needed away from the cameras. Once the uniforms were behind my desk, all I had to do was get them into a bag and carry them home.
We head toward the hospital and follow the narrow street until we reach the gate to the Middle Circle. As expected, the guards simply wave us through without asking any questions, but I’m sure this would not be this easy if we were trying to get farther into the city. The large hospital building looms up between the high houses at the end of the street.
We fall into a nervous silence. The hardest part is not thinking about everything that could go wrong. I recite the plan in my head on an endless repeat: get in, change, open the door, swap the sample, get out. My silent mantra distracts me from ruminating on all the potential problems.
Tien stops, ushers us into an alley, and takes the bag from Mira. He rummages in it for a while, hands Mira and Dale their outfits, then grabs doctor’s robes for himself. They hide in stoops to throw on the clothes, away from the eyes of those walking past the alley.
As they step out, I inspect each outfit: Mira in her pink scrubs, Dale and Tien in light blue pants with white doctor’s robes. It makes me smile how convincing they look.
Tien hands me the bag. “Yours is in here, plus a few extra scrubs in case they inspect the bag.” I know this, but it feels good to get some reassurance. “I put the inspector uniform at the very bottom, so you might have to search a bit,” he explains.
I nod and accept the bag from him.
Together we walk into the large open courtyard in front of the hospital. I walk to the main entrance while the others turn right toward the side entrance. We’ve reached the point of no return.
I feel incredibly alone without my friends by my side. Having them with me is what kept me from breaking down. Now I have to concentrate to keep from hyperventilating. Each step toward the hospital takes more effort than the one before.
I force one foot in front of the other until I reach the small line outside the hospital. It’s early in the morning, but the hospital is always busy. The familiar and dreaded symphony of crying children, coughing, and anxious voices fills the air around me.
I wonder what it looks like on the other side of the wall. I can’t really imagine Inner Circle residents standing, waiting in the dirt outside.
I hurry past and try not to look at anyone.
I glance at the check-in counter and am relieved I don’t recognize the nurse behind the window. Of course, my cover story would check out if she looked me up in the system, but I’m happy I don’t have to deal with someone who knows me from a past visit.
I approach the window, and the young woman looks up at the sound of my footsteps. She smiles at me, and I feel a little less nervous—what a contrast to the nurse from Friday.
“I’m here to deliver replacement scrubs to the doctor’s lounge on the second floor,” I state.
The young woman nods and buzzes the door next to her booth. I fight the urge to run through. I half expect someone to stop me at every step, but the hallway behind the door is deserted.
I catch myself gnawing my lower lip and stop. I internally recite my plan while waiting for the elevator to arrive. I constantly check behind me, sure someone will bust me any second now. Finally the bell dings and the doors slide open. Relieved to see it empty, I enter and clumsily press the button for the second floor.
Before the doors can close, a hand pushes it back open. A man in dark blue scrubs joins me with a smile. He presses the button to the third floor and turns to face the door. I relax slightly as the door finally slides shut and we start moving.
A few people are outside the elevator when I step out. I didn’t expect this many people to be here. I remind myself this is a hospital and there are sick people to take care of at all hours of the day and night.
I follow a sign to the bathroom and change quickly, stuffing my regular clothes back into the bag and depositing it into the last stall. I close the stall door from the outside, attach an Out of Order sign we made the night before, and hope that will be enough to deter anyone from entering.
I step into the hallway wearing a dark gray pantsuit. The inspector’s badge Tien acquired glimmers on my chest.
When I get back into the elevator, the same man in dark blue scrubs stands in the same corner. I almost back out. But now he is reading a newspaper, and I keep my face turned away from him in case he does look at me.
We step off together on the first floor where I hang back a little to allow him to walk ahead of me. I watch, wary, as he enters the waiting room, then I turn to get the others. I rush toward the side door and push it open.
I blink as the bright sunlight hits my eyes. Looks like the doctors and nurses use this place for quick breaks, away from the front entrance where the sick would pester them with questions. Relief floods through me when I see Mira, Tien, and Dale sitting on a bench, surrounded by half-smoked cigarettes, ash, and discarded snack wrappers.
I wave them over, and they hurry inside, trying to look natural. This time the elevator is empty, and we are lucky enough to find the fourth floor corridor deserted as well. Mira and I take the right. Tien and Dale, the left. We rush from door to door, checking the signs, glancing past open doors. Finally, we find where the blood samples are stored.
The room is lined with fridge-like, numbered cabinets, each one filled with hundreds of samples. The only distinguishing factor seems to be a barcode.
My face falls, and I see the same disappointment on the faces of my friends. We had relied on the idea that we would be able to find the vial quickly and easily.
How are we supposed to find Willow’s blood now?
Tien touches a display near the door, then groans. “We need the patient number for this. It gives you the location if you know—”
“What now?” Mira demands.
I shrug, and Dale looks completely lost. Tien is the only one who doesn’t seem completely devastated by this flaw in the plan.
“There are computers in the nurse’s stations and labs. Maybe we’ll be able to use one of those? We just need to look up Willow’s file. I’m sure her patient number is in there.”
As I have no experience using computers—even less than my friends—I follow Tien’s lead. He suggests splitting up. I follow Mira to the nurse’s station in the hall, and Dale and Tien head to the lab at the other end
. It’s lunchtime. Hopefully most nurses will be on break by now.
The nurse’s station is empty except for a young woman—maybe fifteen or sixteen—sitting at one of the tables. She’s typing very fast on the tablet in front of her. She glances up, smiles, then returns her attention to her work.
Mira sits down in front of a computer in the corner. When a password prompt comes up, she looks at me with a grimace.
I bend over her and look at the screen helplessly. My own reflection reminds me that I’m wearing an inspector uniform. I look to the woman at the table.
I have an idea.
11
Chase
I clear my throat and take a few steps toward the girl. “Miss,” I begin and have to concentrate to keep my voice from shaking. “Could you help us here for a moment?”
She looks up and smiles. “What do you need?”
I pull my shoulders back to make the badge more visible. “My name is Paulina Watson. I’m an inspector with the government. I was sent here to investigate a case. I can’t tell you much, but someone is suspected of meddling with patient data. I need to inspect a file, but Mrs. Thomas here can’t seem to remember her password.”
I nudge my head at Mira in what I hope is an annoyed fashion. It’s a huge risk to talk to anybody, let alone actually involve someone.
I watch the internal struggle of the young woman in front of me. She seems uncertain if she should help us or not.
“I’m not really authorized to open any files,” she says, and my hopes sink.
I go for broke and plead, “It would really help me tremendously. If anyone is found guilty of tampering with data, there will be hell to pay. For everyone.” I look at her pointedly.
The girl hesitates, then nods. “Well, okay. But please, don’t tell anyone I helped you.”
“Thank you, Miss—”
“Ashcroft,” the girl supplies, turning off her monitor. “Elizabeth Ashcroft.”
I wonder for a moment if she is related to the mayor but am too eager to look at Willow’s file to pursue the thought.
She walks over to the computer and gestures Mira out of the chair so she can sit down. I can’t see the screen, but I don’t want to intrude. I wait patiently as she types a long, complicated password.
“What file do you need opened, ma’am?” she asks.
I had hoped she’d let me sit down after logging in but figure I wouldn’t have either, so I’m not surprised. I answer, “Willow Hunter, please.”
I watch as the girl taps, swipes, and types. Then something changes in her face.
Is it shock or disbelief? What did she see?
Panic rises inside me, and my hands tremble. I ball them into fists to hide it and glance at Mira, who gives me a quick thumbs-up behind the woman’s back.
“Can I see the file, Miss Ashcroft?” I ask, and she finally lets me sit down. My relief is short-lived since she hovers behind me, watching the screen.
I scroll to the top of the page and find the patient number: 324-178-67-02.
It is weird to see my daughter’s life reduced to a string of numbers.
I glance at Mira, who gives me a reassuring smile. I return my attention to the screen and run my finger over the information, as if searching for something. I return to the top of the file often to look at the patient number.
Her name is listed at the very top, along with her basic information. A few lines are redacted underneath. Apparently Elizabeth doesn’t have authorization to view them. I wonder what might be there and hate the stupid black lines blocking me from whatever they are hiding.
My own name is listed under Mother next to another redacted line. I scroll away quickly before I remember I used a fake name for Elizabeth. I want to scroll back and check for any information about Willow’s father, but Miss Ashcroft is tapping her fingers on the table, and I feel I’ve spent too much time on the file already.
“I also need to look at Evelyn Weiland’s file,” I explain and look over at Elizabeth, who looks lost in thought. She leans over and puts the name into a box at the top of the screen. The file opens to a picture of a middle-aged white woman.
I distract Miss Ashcroft with small talk as I scroll through the file, always making sure to return to where the patient number is visible for Mira.
I keep internally reciting Willow’s patient number to make sure I don’t forget—324-178-67-02.
When Mira takes a step back, I know we are ready.
“Thank you for your cooperation, Elizabeth. I’ll make sure to put in a good word for you.” I hope my lie will keep the girl happy. She gives me a small smile, then presses a few buttons, and the screen shuts down.
She says, “Of course. Not a problem. I hope you found what you were looking for.”
The girl still seems distracted by something. I throw her one last glance before heading out of the station. I don’t have time to think about what might trouble a teenaged nurse.
“Did you get it?” I ask as we step into the hallway. Mira nods but doesn’t answer aloud.
As quickly as we dare, Mira and I walk down the corridor, each of us muttering the patient number we memorized under our breath. When we get back to the blood sample room, there is no trace of Dale or Tien. I have to keep myself from shouting their names.
Mira immediately heads for the tablet and types in the number she memorized. She opens the door to the fridge and runs her finger along the vials until she finds the right one. She grabs it and hurries over to hand it to me. “Got it.”
I type Willow’s patient number into the display, and it supplies the refrigerator number, shelf, and row. As I look around for refrigerator seventeen, there is still no sign of Dale or Tien.
“Should we go looking for them?” I ask tentatively.
Mira shrugs. “I don’t know. We should probably get the samples swapped first. I’m sure they are fine.” She doesn’t sound convinced. I watch her as she leans into the hallway to check for the guys.
“Why don’t you go look for them while I do the swap? I’m sure I can handle it.”
She nods, squeezes my arm, and rushes off into the hallway. Once she’s vanished around the corner, I feel suddenly very alone. A few hours ago, I would have done anything to have them safely at home, and now I don’t want anything more than to have them by my side.
I rub my face and take a deep, steeling breath. Willow needs me. I return my attention to the search for refrigerator seventeen. Luckily it doesn’t take long.
I reach to open the door, but I hear a noise from the corridor. I walk toward the hallway and peer outside, praying silently it’s Mira, Dale, and Tien. Instead, I see two peacers.
Damn.
My insides freeze, and I pull back into the room. I spot a gap behind one of the fridges and dash for it, squeezing into the small opening.
Do they know we are here? Did they find any of my friends? Are they just patrolling?
I hear them enter the room and don’t dare to breathe. My lungs threaten to explode, and I draw in a very shallow breath, trying my best not to make the slightest sound.
Slowly, the footsteps move away, and I hear a quiet “clear” from one of the men. I wait until I can’t hear them anymore, then slide out of my hiding place.
I need to warn the others, so I rush to complete my task as quickly as possible.
I throw open the refrigerator door and find my daughter’s blood sample. I grab her vial and peel off the label. I stick it to the side of the door and get to work on Evelyn’s label. I manage to get it off almost perfectly and smooth it onto Willow’s vial.
I get Willow’s label from the side of the door and apply it to Evelyn’s sample. I carefully slide the vial holding Evelyn’s blood—that is now labeled as Willow’s—into refrigerator seventeen.
Relief floods through me when I see the neat rows of blood. Nothing would indicate anything had ever changed here, except maybe the tiny dent from my fingernails at the side of the sticker. Now to hide Willow’s blood in Evelyn�
�s refrigerator.
As I pull back, I knock over one of the vials in the front row of the fridge with my sleeve, and it shatters on the floor. The sound seems to vibrate through the room. I quickly close the door of the refrigerator and check the hallway for guards. Empty.
“Mira?” I whisper, “Tien? Dale?”
Where the hell are they? We need to get out of here.
My eyes scan the blood on the floor. It’s right in front of refrigerator seventeen. I look around for something to clean up the mess and find a stack of paper towels in a corner. I bend down to clean it up, and I hear footsteps behind me.
“Ma’am, are you okay?”
I don’t move. Boots enter my field of vision—the typical black and blue of the peacer uniforms.
They found me.
I keep my head low, mostly to give myself some time to think. I am wearing an inspector outfit. Maybe I can talk my way out of this. Maybe I can convince this guy I am really an inspector and not an imposter.
Why would I be kneeling in this room, next to a puddle of blood? Think, Chase, think.
“Ma’am?” the man repeats and kneels down next to me.
I fake a sniff and stammer, “I—I’m s—sorry. I thought I was alone.” I need an excuse for the blood on the floor. “I got some really bad news this morning and couldn’t concentrate. I was supposed to inspect a sample, but when I reached in, I dropped another one.” I wave a hand at the mess and wipe nonexistent tears from my eyes.
The man puts an arm on my shoulder. I fight the temptation to push it off.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he says in a gentle voice. “Would you like me to help clean this up and then walk you out, ma’am? We can take note of the broken vial and let the nurses know it needs replacing on our way out.”
Out. Exactly where I need to go. I hope the others spotted the guards, too, and are on their way home already.
Please let them be safe.
I visualize them being struck down by peacers with grim faces and have to push the thoughts away before I scream.
