by A J Rushby
Thankfully, he doesn’t follow me. But outside, in the corridor, it looks like Lauren has been.
Because there she is, leaning back against the wall. Staring straight at Steen’s lab door. My mouth opens at the same time that my gut fills with a very bad feeling indeed. I go to say something, then tell myself I’m better off saying nothing at all. I don’t have to. We were seen by the camera in Steen’s lab and no one came. If the Society doesn’t care, I don’t owe Lauren an explanation.
I don’t owe her anything at all.
EIGHTY-TWO HOURS AWAKE
During the day, the tremor in my right hand gets steadily worse.
At first I try to ignore it and hope that it will go away, but it doesn’t. Instead, it gets worse again and I have to confess at my next round of testing. It’s at this point that I notice what a mess my nails are, raw around the edges. I can see that Thing One and Thing Two think this might be significant. Worse still, on that round of testing, my reaction times and cognitive tests are down by almost twenty per cent. That’s when the fun begins, and what feels like a million people are brought in and consulted about adjusting the doses of the four medications I’m on. I keep one thing to myself, however—I’m starting to feel more and more depressed as time wears on. When the psychiatrist makes yet another visit, I lie blatantly. My hand might have a tremor, but I feel fine within myself. Just fine. Normal.
But I don’t.
I feel like I’m dragging a heavy weight around with me. That everything is too hard. I’m beginning to struggle to entertain myself. I’m not looking forward to anything. Not even the two weeks being up.
Because why would I? When the two weeks are up, we all go back to our regular lives. And my regular life no longer includes Steen.
As it turns out, I barely see Steen, Andrew and Lauren that day, as I spend it mostly in the lab discussing medication. I’m sure this isn’t good for my mental health either, and as night time draws in, I begin to dread the long hours stretching in front of me and worry about how I’m going to distract myself and get through them. I hope not with the sort of thoughts I’ve had all day, which mainly revolve around Steen. And Freja. Being Danish together.
Around one in the morning, I’m lying on my bed staring at the ceiling when there’s a knock on the lab door. I get up and head on over to see who it is.
As it turns out, it’s Steen.
‘I can’t sleep,’ he tells me.
My brain, frenzied with jealousy, jumps to the conclusion that he’s pining for Miss Denmark, but then I see that something’s wrong with him. Something’s different from this morning. He looks tired and distracted.
‘Want to come in?’ I ask him. I can feel the camera on us, but if no one called us on being in Steen’s lab, I can’t see what the problem will be here.
Steen enters and I watch him take in my lab. Finally he turns back to me. ‘So, everything you ever wanted, huh?’
I check his expression, expecting to see a pointed look upon his face. But there isn’t one.
‘I mean it,’ he says with a small shrug. ‘You’ve worked hard for this. You deserve it.’ He realises what he’s saying then and how it could be easily misconstrued. ‘We all have,’ he adds, for the camera’s benefit.
I remember walking in here, feeling exactly that way—that this was everything I ever wanted. Dreamed of. But now … now all I see are the cold, hard steel surfaces. The clinical, harsh lighting. The huge packs of drugs waiting for me to ingest. For the first time since coming down here in the elevator, I feel claustrophobic. Like I’m in a jail. A jail of my own design. I’m jumpy and distracted—always listening for noises from the fifth room. Watching for clues. Worried about crazy Lauren and scared I’ll never see Steen again after this. Am I losing it, or is it just Steen’s presence? I don’t know, but suddenly I’m close to tears.
Steen’s expression changes. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says, taking a step towards me. ‘That wasn’t what I came here to say.’
‘What did you come here to say?’
‘I thought you might want to watch a movie.’
I don’t know what this means. Does he really want to watch a movie, or is this a Lauren-style ‘select a movie, turn the sound up and talk without anyone overhearing’?
‘Sure,’ I say. Either way, I’m going to agree, aren’t I?
We exit my lab and head up the corridor and into the recreation area. I sit on one end of the larger sofa—the one in front of the TV—and watch him as he walks over, grabs the remote and begins to flick through the movies on offer.
‘Something mindless,’ I tell him.
He picks an action movie and turns the sound up.
So I was right. It’s a Lauren-style movie we’re watching here.
He comes over to sit on the other end of the sofa I’m on and says nothing for a while as we watch the car chase that’s flashing across the screen.
‘You really okay?’ I finally ask him.
He takes a while to answer me, his eyes glued to the screen. ‘I don’t think the cells are working,’ he says, after some time. ‘I thought they were this morning, but now I think I’m getting worse again. I can feel it.’
I twist round. ‘But you knew that would happen, right?’
‘But it’s too soon. Way too soon.’
There’s a long pause.
‘I’m sorry.’ It’s all I can say. I know he’ll already be doing everything he can to stave off infection. All I can offer is moral support.
Silence again.
‘And you?’ Steen is the first to speak again. ‘Are you all right?’
No, I think. No, I’m a nail-picking mess.
But, ‘Yes,’ I answer automatically, then change my mind. ‘No. Not really. But I’m seeing how long I can hang out for.’
‘What’s going on?’
I tell him about the tremor and my test results. And then I confess to what I haven’t admitted to anyone so far—that a cloud of depression is truly setting in.
‘Is there anything I can do?’ he asks me when I’m done.
‘I don’t think so. But thanks. It’s nice of you to …’ I struggle to find the word, settling for ‘care’. Because why should Steen care? I walked (no, ran) away from him. With no explanation. No call. Nothing. By all rights he should want me to fail. But I can see that he doesn’t. He’s genuinely worried about me.
There’s a longer silence then. A silence that stretches on and on. Both of us watch the TV screen as men in fast cars and helicopters do ridiculous things at ridiculous speeds.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say, after a long time, the words bubbling up from inside me and spilling over. My eyes remain on the TV. It’s an all-encompassing ‘sorry’. He knows what I mean. I’m sorry his experiment isn’t working. That he doesn’t feel well. That I left him and didn’t explain why. I’m sorry for it all. For everything. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
He doesn’t reply. Instead, his hand reaches over for mine, resting on the cushion beside me, unseen by the camera because of the arms on the sofa. I hold my breath as it gets closer and then clasps mine hard. As he holds it tight, I know this is exactly what I need right now. Human touch. His touch. It immediately warms me through and I have to keep a smile from spreading across my face, because I suddenly can’t remember being so happy before. Not when I was invited to be one of the Thirty. Not when I was invited to join the Society. Not when I was asked to experiment.
Never.
Not even when we first held hands.
We’d booked a library room for a tutor group. We’d been waiting for our tutor to show up when she’d texted saying something had come up and she’d have to reschedule. The other two people in our group had promptly left, leaving Steen and me in the room. He’d stood and offered me a hand up, which I’d taken. And then … he hadn’t let go.
Until I let go and ran away across the sea.
But his hand in mine now—this is so much more than that. Because that first time … Well, I’d gu
essed it would happen sooner or later. But this time, I was absolutely sure it would never happen again.
And I honestly believe I could sit this way forever, because, right now, it’s a start.
It’s enough.
Enough to know that there’s hope for us. That one day things could possibly be as they once were. That I could be lucky enough to have Steen in my life like I used to.
But, unfortunately, it seems we can’t sit like this forever. Because, at two-forty-three, we both jump as a loud noise suddenly echoes through the room—throughout the entire bunker.
The sound is unmistakeable.
It’s an emergency alert.
We look at each other, drop hands and stand bolt upright.
The two of us are the first out in the corridor and the first to see the LED signs all along the ceiling glowing red.
As one, they read:
ROOM FIVE
EIGHTY-THREE HOURS AWAKE
Steen and I run towards the fifth lab, but when we get there there’s nothing we can do. We can’t get inside—we don’t have an access card to open the door. Steen yells, bashing his fists against the stainless steel, but no one opens the door from the other side. Lauren and Andrew emerge from their own labs, bleary-eyed, but awaken immediately when they see the room number flashing above them.
‘What’s going on?’ Lauren starts over towards us, dragging her pump on its stand. When she stops, she adjusts her anaesthetised arm in its sling. Her gaze moves immediately to mine, then Steen’s. When she sees us looking just as confused, her suspicious glare falters.
‘What …’ Andrew stops just behind her, his bandaged head white under the bright lights.
But as he speaks, his words are drowned out by a burst of noise. Footsteps thumping. Running. Voices. Seven people or so round the corner and enter the corridor where the labs are situated, pulling on masks and caps as they go. Marcus runs down the corridor as well, following them. He also looks as if he has no idea what’s going on.
As soon as he spots us, however, he begins barking out orders. ‘Away from the door. Go. Now. Back to your labs. I don’t want any of you in there.’
Steen and I freeze.
‘NOW!’ he yells.
Quickly, Steen and I move away from the door and down the corridor, to stand near Andrew and Lauren. Marcus waits until we’re a good distance away and then the other staff enter, the door swishing open.
Through all the wires, I put my hand on my chest, realising my heart is thumping like crazy. My eyes are fixed on the now-closed door. Ryan. Ryan’s in there. In what kind of state I don’t know, but I’m guessing it’s not good. I glance over at Steen, but then remember he doesn’t know what I know. And nor do the others.
But Marcus is still in the corridor. Pacing. I look at him as if he’s crazy. ‘Aren’t you going in?’ I ask him.
He gives me a bewildered look. ‘I’m not … I’m not authorised to go in. Apparently.’ He starts to say something else and then, with a wave of his hand, retreats back up the corridor and turns left.
I frown. What? How can Marcus not be authorised to go in there? That doesn’t make any sense at all.
‘I think I saw about half my team go in there.’ Lauren finally breaks the silence as we all stare at the closed door.
Steen turns to her slowly. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
She pauses when she hears the aggression in his voice, her grip tight on the pump’s stand. ‘Nothing. Just … what if this affects our own experiments?’
Steen sucks in his breath. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Of course I’m serious,’ she snaps.
‘I’ll remind my appendix that you have a very important, uninterruptable schedule. Considering we’re using the same surgeon. What did you expect? When an emergency alert sounds, everyone goes who can help. Right?’
Lauren sighs. ‘That’s not what I’m saying.’
‘Oh, I know what you’re saying,’ Steen replies. ‘We all do.’
‘What do you think’s going on in there?’ Andrew touches his head, his eyes narrowing, and I guess that he still has a headache. ‘I mean, obviously someone’s experimenting in there, like we suspected. But why is it such a secret?’
‘And how can Marcus not be allowed in there?’ I still don’t get this.
We all look at each other blankly until Steen shrugs. ‘It’s got to be a secret for some reason. Like I said the other day—it must be contagious. Dangerous. Or something. But I don’t know why Marcus wouldn’t be allowed in. That is weird.’
No one else has anything to add and there’s a lengthy silence. Eventually, Andrew takes a step back down the corridor from the way he came. ‘I can only think they’ll tell us sooner or later. But they’re not going to let us in there to help, so I’m going back to bed for now.’
At first I can’t believe what I’m hearing. He thinks he can sleep? After this? But I guess he doesn’t know who’s in there.
And what he’s capable of.
We watch as Andrew turns and makes his way into his lab, the door swishing behind him.
Without a word to either Steen or myself, Lauren follows him, returning to her own lab, dragging her stand as she goes.
Left alone in the corridor now, Steen and I stare at each other. Until I hear Lauren’s lab door close.
I move into action then. I grab Steen’s arm and hustle him over to my lab door. I swipe my card and pull him inside.
‘What the …?’ he starts.
But I don’t stop until we’re in my bedroom, away from the cameras. I don’t care if we’re seen, or someone comes. This has to be done now.
When we do finally stop, I let him go next to the blank wall, turning towards him. I can see what he’s thinking. The same things that were running through my head back on the sofa in the recreation area only minutes ago. ‘I’ve got to talk to you,’ I tell him, lowering my voice to a whisper.
He frowns. ‘What? What is it?’ He lowers his voice as well. ‘Wait. Do you know something? About what’s going on in there?’
I nod.
‘What do you know?’ His green eyes focus in hard on mine.
‘Okay. The student. In the fifth lab …’ I’m just going to have to blurt it out.
‘What?’
‘It’s Ryan,’ I whisper.
I watch as my words sink in. And then it comes …
‘What?’ Steen explodes. ‘How do you know that?’
‘Shhh.’ I remind him we have to be quiet. ‘I saw him. By accident. On the plane. And before you lose it, I didn’t want to tell you in case someone saw me spot him. I wasn’t sure whether the flight attendant had or not. If she had and had told anyone, they might have kicked me out. If they knew I’d told you about what I’d seen … it could have been over for both of us.’
Steen takes a step back from me, bumping into the wall. He reaches out behind with one hand, steadying himself. ‘That’s why you asked me about him before, isn’t it? To see if he was still at school?’
I don’t reply.
‘I just … I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.’ He steps forward, pointing a finger at me. ‘This is just like last time. Exactly the same. Exactly!’
I knew he’d say this and I wait for what’s coming next.
‘What is it, Miri? What is it that I’ve done? What is it about me that’s so untrustworthy? That makes you think you can’t tell me anything? Especially something like this! I can see why you didn’t want to tell the others, but me? Really? How could you not tell me you’d seen him? That he was here? Of all people!’
‘Because I didn’t know why he was here. Or what it meant. I mean, I could only guess. I wanted to tell you, of course I did. But think about it. What could you do with that information? What purpose would me telling you have served? You know you would have driven yourself crazy trying to find out what was happening in there. Look at how you behaved in the car on the way here. You would have got thrown out of the bunker trying to find out the tr
uth.’
Steen continues to shake his head. ‘I don’t know … I just …’
‘Despite what you think, I don’t want to lie to you. I don’t enjoy it.’
‘Really?’ Steen replies. ‘Because it’s starting to seem like it.’ He hesitates. ‘Wait. Did he see you? On the plane, I mean?’
‘No. Definitely not. I only saw his profile. It was him though. I’d know him anywhere.’
‘And you’re sure? Absolutely sure?’
‘Yes.’
He runs a hand through his hair. Thinks for a moment.
I watch on in silence. Better that I say nothing. Let him come to terms with the information in his own time.
‘What do you think his experiment is?’ he finally asks.
I shrug. ‘We know his interest area is infectious diseases …’
‘Did you ever find out what the experimentation he was involved in in South America was?’
‘No. I never learned any more than we discussed. Remember those two small pieces in the Argentinian newspaper? That’s it.’
‘And then the journalist was almost killed in a car crash.’
We stare at each other.
‘It’s a coincidence.’ I brush the thought away, just as I’ve done a hundred times before. ‘I looked it up. Their stats are high. Argentina is the leader in Latin America for road deaths.’
‘But why lie about Ryan’s presence here?’ He pauses. ‘Unless he’s not following the rules. Maybe it’s not self-experimentation that’s going on?’
‘I don’t know,’ I say when Steen looks at me, his expression suddenly guarded. ‘I really don’t.’
The expression deepens as he exhales slowly. ‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.’
And oh, but I know that look. Know it all too well. That’s it. It’s all over. I’ve been shut out again. For a second time. For a few moments back there, in the recreation area, the window had been left ajar and I’d been hopeful I might be able to crawl back in. That, with time, we might be able to be together again. That he’d be able to trust me once more.
No longer.
