Barcode: Legend of Apollo (3 page)

Dennis has a lot of ground to travel. The twenty-six transfers were from seven states, including the only remaining East Coast islands, New York and Vermont.

Though I occasionally roam the hallways to check on the others, I spend most of my time in my cousin’s dark room. She’s lying unconscious in a hospital pool.

These circular bodies of water have chemicals that increase recovery by stimulating the immune and cardiovascular systems. There are barcodes at the bottom of the pool that analyze the patient’s health and adjusts the amount of chemicals released.

Her room’s a bit cold, but what else can I expect? The windows take up an entire wall, and I’m right next to the icy glass.

The walls are an ugly pink by default, but with the push of a barcode, the colors change. I’d turn the room red, but Angie’s a girlie-girl. She’d have my head for adjusting the hue.

Of all the passengers, my cousin took in the least injuries. Yet, it seems that every one on the helicopter suffered some type of internal damage to their organs, especially the guy with dreadlocks.

I tried mentioning the black explosion to my father, but he didn’t notice it. The doctors concluded that some sort of radiation was released during the crash, but I don’t believe the hypothesis.

There was something about that black flash that even left me woozy. I wonder if things would’ve been different if the helicopter had landed first.

There’s one more thing that bothers me. I watched six students get carried to the morgue, and I’m monitoring nineteen in the hospital. That leaves one body unaccounted for. Unable to rationalize today’s events, I try distracting myself by talking to my unresponsive cousin.

“Angie, when I saw the helicopter smash into the ground, I thought it was over for you. Just like that, the tough scrawny girl that beat me up in sparring sessions would lose her life to a machine.”

I watch as her hair dances in the water, and the subtle waves caress her curves. She’s nearly naked, but as children, we shared baths so I’m quite accustomed to her body.

“I guess you’re not scrawny anymore. I can’t believe you have breasts and hips though. Like I told you over our last video chat, you’ve gotten so pretty it disgusts me. But don’t worry; I won’t let Vincent force us into anything. I hate doing what Dennis wants, too.”

In the past, the only combination of gods and goddesses that have ever created Helios’ barcode was Apollo and Artemis. Currently, only Angie and I could create a child with that tattoo. Though Helios already shares his barcode with a human, most people despise that man and impatiently await his death.

Of all the gods, no coded tattoo has shown more power than his, except for mine. After my birth, I was prophesied to become “the Helios killer.” Truthfully, I want nothing to do with any predestined fate. For all I care, he can continue to terrorize the entire East and North Coasts. I’d like to graduate and get as far away from this world as possible. Yet, Uncle Vincent raves about our bloodline and how, once I kill the dictator, we can reunite the East and North the way he has the South.

“Why do these overachieving parents want so much out of us anyway? Dennis wants me to take ownership of the stadium. That way, I can be just like him. Vincent wants you to marry me so we can kill Helios together. And everyone wants me to stop that tyrant from beating our arena and taking over America. But what’s the difference if I win? What if I’m no better than Helios?” I sigh. “You’re right. I should talk about something else.

“Do I have a girlfriend, yet?” I say as though she asked me a question. “No. I’m still working on that. I think she likes me, but after all the trouble I got into last year, she stopped flirting and I’ve officially entered the friend zone.”

My phone interrupts the conversation. My “Do Not Answer Me” ringtone echoes loudly in the room.

“What?”

On the other line I hear, “Don’t what me? And did you change my ringtone?” Hannah often tells Michelle about the ringtones I choose for her. The pest always calls and interrupts right before Hannah and I share a moment so I make sure to attach the most suiting tunes to her contact.

Originally, I programmed my phone with screams from various horror movies. I chose the corniest ones from the twentieth century with people running amok. There was even a hologram of women scampering on my pocket from a guy in a long white mask and a large knife. I’ve turned off the hologram because it drained my battery too much. All the technology they put into our phones, but the battery life sucks.

“Yep. Now it’s even more suiting.”

“Good. Is it a love song?”

“About all the love I have for you.”

“Change it again.”

“My pleasure. Bye.”

“Hold on jerk. I brought you food so come to the third floor.”

“Why’d you bring me food, and what’s in it?”

“Hannah said you’d be here all night.”

“So she told you to bring me food,” I say delightfully, knowing that Hannah was worried about me.

Michelle doesn’t respond for a second, then mumbles, “Something like that. Just come down stairs and don’t ever mention this to anyone. Ever.”

“I don’t want to talk about it now.”

I say goodbye to Angie, and walk down to the hospital’s cafeteria. Once I arrive, I see Michelle with her legs crossed, staring out of a window at our neighboring buildings. She looks grumpy, but the moonlight reflects off her skin quite nicely. I’m mostly impressed that there is a moon tonight. Nine times out of ten, the sky is covered with smog.

As I join her at the table, I say, “I hate the way the light reflects off your skin. Ugh.” Grabbing a burger, I unwrap it from the foil and take a huge bite. My eyes light up with amazement. This tastes like beef, but it’s really good.

“So,” she says while leaning in closely, “You’re looking at my skin.”

Every fiber of my being despises how well she manipulates my jeering. Some people are naturally talented at sports or academics. Not Michelle. She has a knack for making me hate life. The worst part of all, she’s wearing a short skirt similar to the ones Hannah normally rocks. I refuse to remotely think of a compliment, but at least she doesn’t look like a boy.

“Where’d you get the burger from, pest?”

Michelle folds her arms and leans in her chair. “I’m not telling you where I get my food so you and your stupid friends can annoy me when I’m there. The burger isn’t that good anyway. Why do you care?” Taking a huge gulp from my cup, I prepare for the coming argument. She’s going to crack.

“It’s better than good, brat. Tell me or I’ll post that Christmas picture of Kyle kissing you on MeeToo.” That’s a social networking website that comes standard on most phones. It’s a rapid file sharing program that allows users to skim through millions of files from other users at once.

“No need jerk. I made the burger and the fries. And as much as I know you hate that, I also made everything with natural ingredients so it’s not the junk food you love pigging out on. It’s all healthy.” I practically finish my burger in tears because I hate praising this brat. “That’s the third compliment I’ve gotten from you. This time it wasn’t so hard. I just needed to get a plastic bag and wrap everything up like a fast food joint. Easy.”

The witch enjoys pouring salt on my wounds. Once I’ve finished, I stand up and walk away. Small feet race behind me and Michelle jumps on my back again. This time, she has something in her hands.

“Change,” she says with a fist full of clothes.

“Where’d you get those?”

“Daddy made me bring them.”

“Whoa. I can’t fit anything he wears.”

“Yeah. That would be all bad. These are from the mall. Now change.”

After she hops off, Michelle turns away and folds her arms.

“Right here?”

“No one’s watching and I’m looking away so hurry up. I want to go check on the people upstairs too.” No one’s watching because no one’s here. This isn’t a public hospital. It was meant for gladiators. The nurses only have a lot to do when the sport’s in season. Otherwise, there aren’t many visitors. Professor Gonzales is one of the only doctors, but Dennis had to hire two others after patients refused treatment from the demon.

Most nurses monitor patients from their bedrooms. Dennis created a way to allow overnight employees to sleep unless alarms sound. This way, they don’t suffer from burnout and are allowed to continue living normal lives during the day. Still, that doesn’t make me feel comfortable with changing in the middle of the hallway.

“You’re such a weirdo. I’ll just find an empty room.”

“Grow up Spencer. No one’s here. Hurry the hell up and get it over with. Stop being such a pussy.”

“I hate you. Why’d you bring me clothes anyway?”

“I know you get sick of the armor. Just do it.”

Holding true to her word, Michelle turns away. I keep my eyes on her the entire time. Though she never turns around, I notice her barcodes glimmer a faint pink. When I finish dressing, I ask, “Why were the tattoos on your legs glowing?”

Her bronze hair whips as she quickly turns her head and asks, “Why were you looking at my legs?” Her eyebrows are raised. I know that look. Anything I say can and will be used against me. Deciding not to head down that route, I stretch my shoulder pads and pull out their straps. Shoving the rest of my things into the modified bag, I throw the straps over my shoulders and we walk into the elevator.

“You look much better,” she says with a grin.

“Whatever.”

Michelle and I quietly walk into each of the patient’s rooms. The nurses taught me how to read their charts just in case I wanted to monitor Angie’s recovery. I ventured into several students’ rooms already, but haven’t approached the one I want to see the most, the boy with the mask. All night, I’ve felt something calling me to his ward. I’m crazy enough for wanting to check on someone I don’t know, but I can’t help it.

Eventually, we arrive at the doors leading to the intensive care unit. A light flickers like some horror movie, and Michelle instinctively grabs my shirt.

I whisper, “I’m starting to think you’re not as manly as you try to make yourself seem.”

I expect to hear a witty reply, but Michelle simply tightens her grip. She’s seriously scared. I try walking, but she doesn’t budge.

“Where are we going Spencer?”

“I’m going to check on the masked student. You can go back home.”

I think of pulling away, but my legs won’t allow it. She seems shaken by something.

“Don’t you think the hallways are scary?” Michelle says, sounding like a different person. Soft. Gentle. Delicate.

“No. Go home if you’re scared.”

“I’m going with you. Something’s telling me to stay.” Michelle’s tattoos are lighting the hallway more than the lights. She’s using her data to read something that I can’t.

“Your barcodes. Can they sense stuff like danger or thoughts?”

“Every barcode can do something special. People don’t talk about it for a reason Spencer. I’d never ask what yours can do so don’t ask me.”

Besides the superhuman strength that many barcodes provide, they also enhance certain senses. But I don’t know how to use mine properly. It’s embarrassing.

“Well something’s telling me to go check on him.” I force Michelle to release her tight grip. Then, I do something that shocks me, reassure her. “Don’t be scared. It’ll be okay. I promise.”

Michelle watches my eyes closely. She nods. Seriously? My words actually mean something to her?

The eerie stretch through the intensive care unit seems to carry on for a lifetime. The hallways and rooms are darker because of the energy efficient lights. That’s something Professor Gonzales’ creepy family came up with. They might not mind having corridors resemble potential murder scenes, but it’s unnatural for normal people.

Once we make it to the room of the guy that carried Angie from the crash, I tell Michelle she can wait outside. The fearful look on her face says she’s following me regardless of what I say. But I’m glad she’s here. Like in the hallway, I use the pink light to guide me through the darkness.

Her steps trail inches behind my own. This time, I definitely sense her breasts, and it feels more intimate than my first experience.

“Why can I feel your…you know,” I say while pointing towards her chest.

She’s not in the mood to hear my complaints. Closing her eyes, she quickly blurts, “We both have barcodes connected to our sense of touch. You should always feel people’s presence. Aren’t you used to it by now?” The question was meant to be rhetorical, but I’ve never used my barcodes like that.

“No. I’m not.”

“Okay. I’ll teach you how to stop it later, but can we please hurry? Please Spencer.”

“Why are you so scared?”

“I’m…” Michelle’s tattoos begin to flicker, creating a pink strobe light.

“Just tell me. You don’t have to admit you’re scared, but why don’t you want to be here?”

Michelle shakes her head, “Spencer. I sense something in this room that wants to kill.”

“Kill what?”

She corrects me under her breath by saying, “Kill who?”

It wants to kill me?

The only other person in this room is the injured student. I’ve never met him before so he can’t want to kill me. Is it possible something’s hiding in the dark? No. Michelle probably wants me to get scared so she can make fun of me. I’m not falling for it.

She’s a good actress. I’ve never seen Michelle so horrified. She glues herself to me again as we walk further into the student’s room.

This place is a bit more advanced. Medical barcodes line the walls. These codes are similar to the stamps Apes receive for combat, but they spend their energy analyzing and adjusting treatments. The data also alerts nurses in case of an emergency.

The room’s dark except for the faint green lights that shine from the barcodes. Depending on the amount lit at one time, I can see between two and seven feet ahead of us. I’m starting to feel more nervous than Michelle.

Why am I so uneasy?

I check the boy’s monitor. Unlike the others, this guy’s injuries were too severe to place in a pool. Instead, he’s recovering in a cement-like material that hardens around the patient. It repairs muscles and bones by constantly moving pharmaceutical clay inside the shell.