The Haven: A Novel (3 page)

3

“One minute to lights out” sounded over the intercom and the music of Brahms was piped into the building. I yawned. A creature of habit, I guess.

I swallowed the plastic cup of Tonic that sat on my bedside table, my prepared bag an arm’s length away. Then I climbed into bed. The room grew quiet.

I share this room with three other girls, including Abigail. We’re a Dorm unit and as the Disease progresses it takes more and more from some.

Settling under my comforter, I lay still as a shadow, letting the music sweep over me. From my bed I could see out the huge window. Snow fell. Fat flakes that came down like feathers, like they took their time leaving the sky, twisting and turning. Moonlight turned the darkness blue. I shivered and yawned again, then lay on my side.

“I heard Gideon disrupted studies today,” Mary said.

“Yes,” I said, the word muffled in my pillow. “It happened in my class. He went berserk. Changed into a maniac in front of everyone.”

Mary and Abigail sat up.

“And?” Elizabeth said.

“Ms. Iverson got water in her eyes.”

“Water?” Mary asked.

I sat, too, so my whispers would cover the distance of the room. “Water poured
from her eyes.
” I told them everything, even how Gideon pushed the desk over.

Elizabeth said, “Oh no.”

Abigail rested against her pillow in the pale light. “I think he wants out of here,” she said.

No one answered.

“Like we all do,” I said. The words made me cringe. I didn’t quite believe what I spoke. Even with Abigail’s questioning, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to leave. I know what happens to Terminals in the real world.

“I want to stay where I’m safe,” Mary said, echoing my thoughts like she could read my mind.

“But if you didn’t
have
to be here,” Abigail said. She was going down
that
road again? “If you could be Whole, you would be, wouldn’t you?”

There was a long pause. Brahms grew softer. The hall lights dimmed.

“Yes,” Mary said.

“We shouldn’t talk that way,” Elizabeth said.

“No one is supposed to know about the incident,” I said.

“All the Terminals do,” Elizabeth said. “I heard groups talking about it. But no Teachers. At least not yet.”

If anyone found out—any Teacher, I mean—that could mean trouble for Gideon. And even though I wasn’t sure if I agreed with what he said, I didn’t want him in trouble.

Still, his behavior demanded Isolation.

Isolation is just what it says on the outside of the door:
PENITENCE AND REFORM ROOM.
A few hours alone, where the white of the walls blinds you, and you’re ready to promise anything. At least I had been. I don’t ever want to go again. Twice is enough for me.

“I hope no one finds out,” Mary said.

“Gideon’s tough,” Elizabeth said. “I heard Principal Harrison talking to Dr. King.”

“What did Principal Harrison say?” This was Abigail.

Elizabeth thought for a long second. “Something about how Gideon is stronger than other Terminals. That he needs to be supervised.”

A weight descended on my shoulders just as it always does when anyone speaks of something contrary. “I want to sleep.”

We all settled down, but I lay in bed wide-eyed.

The thoughts wouldn’t stop.

If I peered out the window, I could see Hall Four. There’s a plaza between us, the stilled fountain, a gazebo at the edge of things, and a small courtyard. In the spring it’s full of flowers.

If I checked outside now, I’d see the old brick of that arm of the rooms, the wide windows, each with a small balcony. At the west end of the structure, I would see the chimney rising from the building like a finger pointing to the sky.

The males reside in Hall Four. Gideon’s room is there.

And Isaac’s.

Or it had been.

“Don’t think about him,” I said.

“Excuse me?”

Abigail moved in bed. “Do you need something, Shiloh?”

“I’m fine,” I said.

Lies!

“No more talking tonight,” she whispered. “I heard the hall monitors will be out in force to make sure we get our eight hours.”

“They always do, every time one of us goes,” I said.

“They want to see if we’re going to lose it,” Abigail said. She paused. “It’s all about control, you know.”

“Control?”

“I don’t understand,” Elizabeth said.

The lights went out and the music softened to nothingness. I yawned again. Mary’s breathing became heavy and deep. I swear, she can sleep anywhere. One morning, early, I found her snoozing on one of the toilets, her head against the stall wall, pajama bottoms around her ankles.

Abigail lowered her voice. “It’s about keeping us calm. So they can do to us what they’ll do to Isaac.”

Neither Elizabeth nor I spoke.

“Terminals live this way,” I said, that same useless reminder. “We live this way.”

“I know,” Abigail said.

The dimmed light from the hall seeped into the room. I could see the outline shadow of her.

“I know.” She lay back.

4

Control? Why would Abigail think
that
word? Didn’t it make her ill to say it?

I should go to Abigail.

Tiptoe across the room and crawl into bed with her, lying on top of her comforter, my own blanket covering me so we didn’t touch skin to skin. We could wait until Elizabeth was sound asleep. Talk about Isaac. His pale face. About Gideon. His outburst. Daniel’s suggestion that Gideon wanted us to have cures for our kind.

Abigail and I could—
leave, search the dark halls, sit in the shadows.

My heart kicked up a beat. We’ve snuck out lots. Got caught only the first time. The consequence was a private meeting with Principal Harrison.

And, Isolation.

Abigail and I had wandered the school, going to the kitchen, where we found all the food locked away.

In the corner bed, Mary snored—she always snores the first ten minutes she’s asleep. Elizabeth mumbled something.

If I closed my eyes, I would dream.

I’m tired of the nightmares,
I thought. They come more often than not when another Terminal is taken away.

When everyone slept, I threw back the covers and tiptoed to our window, looking out at Hall Four. The windows there were dark and empty, like eyes made only of pupils. I shivered.

That’s when I saw the movement. The slightest shift. A dog maybe? But how could an animal get in here? The thing straightened up some and I saw the shape was much bigger than a dog. It was the size of a small bear. Or … a Terminal? Something surged up my throat. A Terminal dressed all in black?

A dot of a red light flickered near the shape. Went out. Flickered again.

“What in the world?” My breath made a circle of steam on the window and I wiped it away with the sleeve of my pajamas. Touched the cold glass with my fingertips.

Another flicker of light sparked across the courtyard, near the gazebo at the end of the green.

The figure hurried toward the light and then the moon slid behind a cloud and I couldn’t see anything more.

“Who is that?” Today, it seemed, my heart had spent way too much time beating way too hard.

We Terminals don’t get afraid. Only Then. Only when the door squeaks open does fear course through us. So why did my heart pound now?

I pressed my hand, cool from the windowpane, onto my side near my scar. Through the fabric of my nightshirt I felt the raised flesh.

“Shiloh,” said a whispered voice right next to my ear. “What do you see?”

I let out a yelp and swung, striking Abigail in the shoulder. “Don’t ever do that again.” I squeezed her elbow. My head swirled and I staggered back, falling against the windowsill. I kept my voice low. “Ever.” I moved toward her and gave her a small shake. My stomach roiled and I released her.

“You didn’t have to hit me.” Abigail peered out into the darkness. “I just wondered what you were looking at. You’re supposed to be asleep.”

“So are you,” I said.

We eyed each other then looked out the window together.

Nothing. Whatever was out there was gone. So were the red flashes.

It could have been an intruder. Sometimes people break onto the school grounds but Security always takes them away.

Two weeks ago. What? What had happened?

The memory of the Incident was almost not there. How the Whole male had run into the Dining Hall, grabbed at a young female Terminal, tried to run off with her. Disturbing, is what Principal Harrison said later, when the male was stopped by our uniformed guards and then dragged away by police from the outside.

“Our apologies,” Principal Harrison had said at the microphone. “It is our duty at Haven Hospital and Halls to keep you away from the lunatics.”

Was that the same lunatic out in the snow now?

“What did you see?” Abigail cupped her hand around her eyes and leaned against the pane.

The night was black. Only the shapes of the building were visible now. Blocks of darkness. I could see our reflections. I stood a head taller than Abigail, and her hair fell around her shoulders while I’d pulled mine back so it wouldn’t be a giant puff ball in the morning. I opened my mouth to tell her what I had seen. Then I hesitated. I
should
tell. It was my duty to answer when asked a question.

“Nothing,” I said. “I couldn’t sleep.” A truth.

She nodded. “The last of winter is so nice, isn’t it?” Abigail stood close to me. I could feel the heat of her body. Tension rolled up my throat.

Nice? “Yeah. Maybe,” I said.

“I love spring best,” she said, padding back to bed. “When everything is new and it seems like even we Terminals have a chance.”

A chance.

A promise.

I loved nothing. But I believed what Abigail said.

Spring did feel like a chance.

A promise was what Gideon said we should have. And at that moment, standing halfway between my bed and the window, I believed in that promise, or that chance, too. I wanted to be more than a Terminal. I wanted a life. To live outside the walls. While I wouldn’t say so to Abigail, I
did
want a chance to live elsewhere, as one of the Whole.

I checked out the gazebo one last time, straining to see anything, but there wasn’t even a glimmer of light. A shiver ran from shoulder to shoulder. I went back to bed and slept.

Do you have your suitcase?

It’s there. By my nightstand.

You won’t be gone long.

I nod. Walk. It’s so far. The corridor is a dark hole. Cold as snow. I walk forever. The blinking light never gets closer.

I’m on the bed. Someone cries out.

The voice echoes. Comes into my mind again and again.

We’ll get rid of the Disease. What we can, he says.

Brightness stabs at my eyes. I feel it in the back of my head, it’s so sharp. The light turns red. Cuts across the yard.

There’s the knife, slicing down my breastbone, opening me up, like chicken in the kitchen when I help cook.

Hands reaching in pull out the blackness that fills me. I feel the dark being torn away. Feel the tendons separating from the bone. Blackness turns red as blood.

They have my heart, dripping what looks like used car oil. Steam rises. I smell something awful.

The red light flickers again. The male in black motions for me to come to the gazebo, but I cannot without my heart.

They sew me up.

But the bleeding will not stop.

5

“Abigail!”

I woke myself, screaming. The cold of my dream followed me into waking. I felt like I had showered in icy water.

I curled in on myself. “Help?” I whispered, testing the air around me. Hearing my own voice calmed me, and the ice in my skin thawed.

“You’re okay, Shiloh. It’s just the dream again. You’re used to it.”

But I’m not, even though I dream that same thing all the time.

Our room was dark except for the faint light from the hallway. No one awoke from my crying out. All around me was the sound of steady breathing.

I pulled the comforter to my chin, turned over, and burrowed my face into my pillow.

“You’re okay. You’re okay,” I said. My nerves tried to get into my brain.

I couldn’t lose control. A dream wasn’t like those Dining Hall doors opening. A dream was my brain releasing stress. That’s what Dr. King said once in assembly. I remembered it, word for word.

“We’ve had a lot of Terminals complaining of nightmares.” Dr. King had raised his hands to us like dreams sat on his palms. “This is just your brain relieving the stress of the day. You have no reason to fear your dreams. They mean nothing.” He’d worn a dark blue suit that day. And a bow tie. “If they bother you, come to the Nurse’s Station for a change in your Tonic. If they continue, we’ll see you at the Infirmary.”

That was the day I’d decided I’d never go to the Infirmary for help. Not with my worries or my dreams or my memory. I would keep to myself.

“Easy,” I said now. “I’ll try for nothing. Hope to get my mind off Isaac. Not think of any Terminals.”

The best thing I could do now would be:

To not sleep at all.

To have no more dreams.

And to please forget that look on Isaac’s face.

*   *   *

A Mozart sonata woke me.

At first I wasn’t even sure I could get my eyes open, I was that tired. That deep in sleep. My bedding was warm, and I was warm. The dream had fled and taken with it all the coldness of the night before.

But oh! Isaac. Once again I recalled how his freckles looked so prominent on his all-the-sudden pale skin. I remembered Gideon shoving that chair. Had any other Teachers heard about what happened? Was Gideon learning all about Penitence and Reform at this moment?

You have got to let this go,
I thought.
Everyone else forgets. You do it, too. Make yourself forget.