Compliance (22 page)

His head snaps up and our eyes meet. “Come with me. I’ll take you home—to the Settlement.” His expression and words nearly knock me off my feet.

“I can’t. I—not yet.”

“I’ll wait. I’ll check back here for you—every night.” His deep voice is barely audible. “Every night. I won’t leave Haven without you.”

T
HE NEXT DAY
I’m still buzzing from seeing Burn, when Mrs. Kalin takes Cal and me to the Hospital. Her eyes broadcast concern and she tucks my hair behind my ear as Cal reads the non-disclosure agreement. “You look tired,” she says. “Are they working you too hard? Because I can speak to your instructors…”

“No.” The warmth of her caring rushes over me. “Thanks, but I’m fine, really. Just stressed out about Scout.” And a million other things I can’t reveal. But just seeing her, just seeing how much she cares, sets me at ease.

And now there’s pride mixed into her concerned expression. “Okay, I won’t interfere,” she says. “I guess it won’t help your credibility if your mother asks your COT instructors to go easy on you.”

My heart stutters. “My mother?”

She grins. “You know what I mean.”

I nod and a smile spreads through my entire being.

“I know I could never replace your real mother,” she says. “I can’t just step in and fill her shoes, but I do care about you. To me, you are my daughter. You know that, right?”

I nod, feeling heat in my cheeks.

“What does this mean?” Cal points to a section of text on the screen.

He turns to face Mrs. Kalin as we walk over, and she says, “It’s all standard. Nothing to be worried about.”

Cal turns away from her and signs the agreement without reading the rest. A little strange for him to back down so quickly, but signing that agreement is the only way he’s going to get access to his brother. I get that. I signed it too.

“Looks like we’re all set then. Let’s go see Scout.” Mrs. Kalin’s voice is cheery and bright and her light coat flares above her slacks as she walks. “I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to have visitors.”

Cal grins and holds the door open for Mrs. Kalin and me. I can’t wait to see Scout again so I can report his progress to Jayma and snap her out of her funk.

Mrs. Kalin and Cal walk down the hall ahead of me and she tells him the basic information about the Hospital’s research. It’s what she described to me the first time I came here. The farther we walk, the more I remember my other reasons for wanting to come back here today. I want to be sure of what I saw. I want another witness so I can discuss the experiments and decide whether I’m right to trust Mrs. Kalin.

A shriek flies out from one of the rooms as we pass and I stop. “What’s in here?”

“A research lab,” Mrs. Kalin answers.

“Can we see?” I try the door and it’s locked. The windows are blocked.

“Who screamed?” Cal asks.

She puts her hand on Cal’s arm and he turns to face her. “Nothing to worry about. Some of the volunteers for our research have painful, pre-existing medical conditions before they’re admitted. We do all we can to keep them comfortable.” She turns to me, but full of nerves, I keep my gaze averted. “Nothing nefarious happens in the research labs. Just scientific experiments. Glory understands.”

“Why don’t you want us to see this room?” I ask.

“Why would you think that?” She smiles as she walks back toward me. “You can see inside every room in the Hospital. We have nothing to hide.” She types a code into a pad and then pushes the door open.

I step in first and gasp.

Along one wall, six people are in shackles. Blood drips from their wounds into drains in the floor. Each, except the first who’s a young man, is wearing a breathing apparatus that’s connected to a vent that runs along the ceiling. A hospital worker, dressed in a loose blue jumpsuit, slides a sharp knife along the upper arm of the fourth subject who screams as blood runs from her wound.

I charge in. “What’s going on? Why are you cutting this woman? What are they breathing?” The pipes that join the
breathing apparatuses to the vent are labeled with numbers that range from 20 to 100 at intervals.

Behind me, Mrs. Kalin says something to Cal that I can’t hear. I grab for the Hospital worker holding the knife, but Mrs. Kalin’s hand lands on my forearm and I twist toward her.

“Calm down,” she says, her voice stern. “Let me explain what you’re seeing.”

I shake my head, keeping my gaze focused on her forehead, trying to force down the anger and revulsion that’s sparking my Deviance behind my eyes.

No one tells me the truth. No one. And if I look her in the eyes, I’ll kill her.

I check on Cal who’s studying a chart on the wall.

“These subjects are all volunteers.” Mrs. Kalin shifts to force eye contact. “In this lab, we’re studying the healing effects of the dust. Georgina here”—the woman in the jumpsuit nods—“is making careful and precise incisions on each of these patients as they receive varying doses of dust, so we can determine how much is required for healing.”

I still feel uneasy, but what she’s saying actually makes sense if I think about it. I look into her eyes and nod, pushing my questions away. She’s right. How else could one properly learn how much dust it takes to heal without causing madness? I remember how terrified I was the first time I saw my father help Drake breathe in dust, and how crazy Gage seemed when he took in too much. It is important to learn how much is enough to heal without turning someone into a Shredder.

Cal steps over. “Are these all Deviants?” he asks. “We
learned in GT that Normals can’t breathe any dust without choking.”

She smiles. “That’s what we used to believe, and I know they still teach it in GT, but through our research, we’ve discovered that most humans can tolerate small amounts of dust and still live. In fact, small amounts may be beneficial. This and other experiments are testing those limits.”

Her eyes flash with sincerity, and guilt floods through me.

“I’m sorry for my outburst,” I tell her, and she rubs my shoulder.

It’s not as bad as I first thought. The subjects are secured to the wall for their own safety and they’re not in any discomfort. Not really. No more than necessary. Everything seems so normal and civilized and supports what I learned and observed about the dust when I was Outside.

I can’t figure out why I doubted Mrs. Kalin. Burn’s warnings last night must have confused me and caused paranoia. I only saw this experiment in a bad light because that’s what I was expecting to see.

I lose my balance, but Mrs. Kalin catches me before I fall.

Cal runs to my side. “Are you okay?”

“Glory’s queasy at the sight of blood,” Mrs. Kalin says. “No more incisions while we’re in the room.”

“Certainly,” the Hospital worker says.

Cal rubs my back and I start to feel better. “I’m fine,” I say. “Other than being embarrassed.”

“No need to be embarrassed,” Mrs. Kalin says.

At the doorway, I turn back, then blink.

Something’s strange with my vision. It’s as though a curtain keeps lifting and falling in front of my eyes. One minute everything looks normal and the next minute it’s a horror show with people bleeding, writhing in horrible pain.

I turn back to Mrs. Kalin and my confusion fades. Everything here is just as she explained. I’ve been so warped by the Hospital horror stories that I heard as a child, and so confused by what Burn told me last night, that I can’t see the truth when it’s right in front of me.

Mrs. Kalin has been nothing but kind to me, and I was wrong not to trust her.

I turn away from her, and as I back out of the room, another thought slides into my consciousness. With these experiments going on, there must be a lot of dust floating around the Hospital. What if it’s messing with my perception, and with Cal’s? What if it’s messing with Mrs. Kalin’s, too?

Sitting on the barracks’ roof next to Cal with what feels like our entire recruit class, I glance around to make sure none of the others are within earshot. I want to hear what Cal thought of the Hospital and it’s our first moment alone. Our class had an oral exam at the end of the day, and we faced a panel of Comps and Instructors who threw numerous unpredictable situations at us, filled with conflicting information. In spite of the non-physical nature of the exam, everyone’s tired and sprawled around the roof rather than in the rec room playing SIM games.

“Scout looked pretty good, don’t you think?” Cal lies back on the roof, looking up at the twinkling stars. Clearly,
the little LEDs get replaced in this section of the sky more often than the bits over where we grew up.

“Did Mrs. Kalin say when he’ll be released?” I ask. Scout was only allowed one visitor at a time, so I waited in the hall when Cal went into Scout’s room.

“Soon.” Cal’s forehead wrinkles.

“But when? Did she give you a date? Did she tell you any details about his recovery?”

Cal rises up onto his elbows. “Why are you being so negative? Mrs. Kalin said that everything was fine.”

“Did you see anything that upset you at the Hospital?” I ask. “Anything that matched the stories we heard as kids?” I felt fine when we left the Hospital, but my suspicions won’t quit.

“Did you see something upsetting?” he asks.

“I want to know your impressions.”

He shakes his head. “It was like you told me it would be.” He rolls onto his side and puts his hand on my waist. “I’m sorry for doubting you before.”

“So, you didn’t see or hear anything horrible at the Hospital?”

“Like what?”

“People being tortured, force-fed dust, sliced open, calling out for our help.”

He balks. “No. Why? Did you see something when I was in with Scout?”

“No. I was right outside the room the whole time.”

“Then why are you asking?” he says. “We saw the same things. People being treated for their ailments, comfortable in beds.”

I draw a long breath and close my eyes for a moment. “I keep seeing strange flashes of things—horrible things.”

He strokes my shoulder. “You need sleep. Sure, some of the patients we saw were in pain, but that’s to be expected. They’re sick and injured.”

“But I wonder…” I nibble the inside of my lip. “It’s almost like Mrs. Kalin’s explanations for the experiments were too easy. Like she was reading off a script or something.” If we were affected by dust in the Hospital, maybe Mrs. Kalin was too. Maybe everyone who works there has been touched by dust madness and it’s affected their empathy, made them cruel like Shredders.

Cal’s hand slides down my side. “You were right about Mrs. Kalin. She’s someone in Management we can trust. Scout’s in good hands.”

I expel a long breath. Cal’s opinion about Mrs. Kalin quashes my fears. Mrs. Kalin has done so much for me and she’s been so open. Much better than the FA who failed to tell me their methods.

Cal slides over so our legs touch, and he leans over me. “You’re worried about something. Talk to me.”

“I thought that’s what we were doing.”

“You’re like a little ball of stress.” He tugs my arm. “What’s going on?” He leans in close. “Are you still working for Mr. Belando?”

I nod. “Mr. Belando was right. I’m pretty sure there is a mole—a Comp.”

His eyes widen. “Really? Who is it? How did you find him?”

“I’m not sure who it is yet. I just know there is one.”

“Be careful.” He kisses my forehead. “Promise me you won’t do anything to put yourself in danger.”

“Making out in public?” Stacy’s voice comes from behind me. “I should report you.”

Cal’s hands fly from my body and I glare at my roommate. “Making out is a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?”

Stacy, standing with one hand on her hip and chewing on a sliver of wood, doesn’t answer.

“Cal,” another recruit calls from across the roof. “Come over here.”

He looks at me and I nod and smile. He leaps to his feet and strides over to join the other boys.

“He needs your permission to talk to other people?” Stacy shakes her head in apparent disdain.

I rise up to stand beside her. “He was being polite. Ever hear of the concept?”

She scoffs and I close my eyes for a moment to wash my anger away. I can’t afford to waste energy on Stacy.

When I open my eyes, she’s smirking. “Come with me.” She gestures with her head. “We need to talk.”

I shake my head. “We live in the same room. We can talk before lights out.”

“We can’t talk in your room.” She leans in close and whispers. “Because Stacy’s there.”

I snap back. “Zina?”

Smirking at me over her shoulder, she strides toward the shadowed side of the roof. I choke back the urge to call out
to the others, to tell everyone that this isn’t Stacy, that it’s the terrorist who caused the scaffold collapse—and goodness knows how many other deaths. But I have no proof. Unless I can get her and Stacy side by side, everyone will assume that I’m crazy.

Fear and anger plow through me, but I force myself to push it all down and follow, and as soon as we’re out of the others’ earshot I cross my arms over my chest. “My friend was on that scaffolding!”

“What scaffolding?” She grins, tipping her chin down and looking at me in a way that makes it clear she knows exactly what I’m talking about.

“How can you live with yourself? You’re a murderer.”

She shrugs, the sly grin not wavering.

My body shakes with anger, my insides twist with disgust, and I try to catch her gaze. Right now I could kill her, but I realize that makes me a hypocrite. Killing Zina might serve a greater good, but isn’t that how she’d justify what she did? I won’t stoop to her level.

She steps up so close I feel her breath on my face. Physically, she looks like Stacy, but while my roommate’s a bully and unpleasant, the hate coming off Zina is palpable.

It’s mutual. “You hurt innocent people—people the FA is supposed to be freeing. How can you justify that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Fists form at my sides and it’s all I can do not to use them. I want to confront her, to argue, but there’s no point. She’ll never admit what she did, and I can’t prove it. “What do you want?”