“We’re going a different way,” he said.
“You’re taking too many risks,” Abigail said.
“Abigail, I won’t jeopardize the Cause.”
She was on her feet now. She raised her hand to point at him. “You already have. More than once.”
Gideon said, “We’ll meet you in an hour.”
She didn’t answer.
* * *
The breeze from that afternoon had picked up to a strong wind that blew from the north.
“What you did was dangerous,” I said.
Gideon turned, leaned till he was close to my face. “Don’t judge me,” he said. His breath smelled of spearmint.
I swallowed, surprised—another new emotion. “I wasn’t,” I said. Something hot bubbled up the back of my throat. My eyes narrowed. Geez, without the Tonic, I couldn’t control anything, especially not the way I felt. “I was stating a fact.”
Gideon didn’t answer. The pull to obey tugged against the desire to leave Gideon to do this work alone. Neither of us spoke now, but walked down the side of the building, sticking to the shadows.
I tucked my head into my jacket, hands into the pockets. The chill made me curl up. When we Terminals stayed in the warmth of the building, our lives were easy.
Why had I thought that? It wasn’t true at all. Our lives were not even our own. There was nothing easy about that. The realization I still wanted to obey held as much bite as the air.
Gideon walked in front of me, moving forward in the dark like he knew the way well.
“You do this outside sneaking a lot?”
He grunted.
“Does that mean yes?”
He stopped and turned to face me. I ran right into him. He was at least six inches taller. I’d never noticed before. The scales were falling from my eyes. “It means we have to be quiet until we get across the campus,” he said. “We have to be quiet out here. Voices carry in the dark. There are cameras to avoid.”
“Outside?”
Gideon’s words floated back to me. “We figure it’s how they knew you and Abigail scaled the wall.” He marched on, taking such large steps that I almost had to jog to keep up. The speed was difficult but I wouldn’t complain. He’d asked me to come along. I needed to make myself do whatever needed to be done. “There are cameras everywhere.”
We raced across campus, moving from tree to tree until the last distance to be covered was a large expanse of ground. I panted, trying to bring in enough oxygen.
“I’ll go first,” Gideon said when we stopped under a downy hawthorn. “Keep low as you run. We’re headed to the hospital.”
No Terminal, not one, was allowed in that building. Dr. King had an office there—that was the rumor. And things happened there.
Across the campus. Suitcase in hand.
Someone near.
People waiting.
The whiteness of the room.
Blinding light.
This was why I was anxious. Thinking too much. I gulped in the cold night air.
“You okay?” Gideon asked. He stepped closer like he wanted to see my face in the sliver-moon’s light.
“Yes. I just can’t go as fast.” My mouth wanted to say, We can’t go there. We can’t. But I wouldn’t be afraid.
Gideon nodded. He rested his hand on my arm. “We’ll wait till you catch your breath.”
The warmth of his fingers seeped through my sweatshirt. Why wasn’t he colder? I concentrated on calming myself, ignoring the bit of pain in my side and the fear of going into this strictly off-limits building. There. My chest wasn’t so tight. Would I ever get used to living with just one lung? A sudden flame burned through my stomach. Why did I have to give a part of me away without choosing to?
“Ready?” Gideon said.
“Yes.”
“Leave thirty seconds after I do. Meet me in the blacker parts near the buildings. East side. At the back.”
I could do that. I’d hiked all over this campus, had memorized the position of trees and bushes, where fountains and decorative walls stood. Though I always kept my distance from this place, I knew where Gideon wanted me to go.
The moon was swallowed whole by the clouds and Gideon took off running. He moved fast. “Just keep low” was the last bit of advice he gave me, the words thin as a spirit.
I counted, slower than when the doors in the dining hall opened. At thirty I stepped from the shadow of the tree and into the openness of the quad.
Overhead, the moon sat sideways, visible again, like it had rolled back on its hip for a rest. Pale almost-not-there light, fell on me. I was a target. Anyone looking into the courtyard could see who I was.
“Hey, look! There’s Shiloh,” I imagined someone saying.
And then the response, “What’s she doing out there?”
I had seen the flicking red light, and seen the shape. What kept others from looking as I had?
That run was like being naked with everyone at Haven Hospital & Halls watching. Eyes pierced me between the shoulder blades, studied my scar, accused me of breaking rules. I’d never felt so vulnerable.
Except the day of my operation when they put that mask over my face.
I’ve changed my mind.
A bit of red light (well!) blinked once, then was gone. Not from my memory. For real.
Gideon.
I reached the building and the darkness.
“Gideon?”
No answer.
I moved a hand out, touching the roughness of bricks. The wind nipped at my skin. I strained to see anything in the shadows. Then I worked along, my back to the building. It felt as though someone had a tight hold on my chest from the inside.
“Hello?” Where was Gideon? Disappeared into the earth?
Right there, all hollow-faced, skeletal in the dark.
“Are you okay?” Gideon touched my shoulder. When he moved, I still felt that weight, pressing into my skin.
I covered my mouth and nose to warm the air going into my body. Bending over seemed to help a little, so I did, curling down toward my knees.
“Shiloh?”
I nodded an answer. “Show me what we need to do,” I said. “I want to go back to bed. I’ve got to sleep. I want to be ready for Ms. Iverson’s classes tomorrow.”
“This side of the building,” he said.
“Right.”
We started again, the wind whistling close by, like it knew we were there and meant to drive us away. I kept my mouth covered. My fingers felt like slivers of cold metal.
Gideon said, “All we have to do is go in through that window.” He pointed up. Above us was a row of muddy-colored glass. Concrete sills glowed pale in the weak moonlight. These were way too high to climb into unless Gideon had been eight feet tall.
“You’ll never make it,” I said.
“But you can. I’ll boost you.”
“Me?” I shook my head. “I don’t know how.”
His clothing rustled and I imagined Gideon had shrugged. “Then you get comfortable on that ledge and pull me up behind you.”
I hesitated. “I’m not sure I can do that. I’m not sure I’m strong enough.”
“Of course you can, Shiloh. You’ve done this before. When you and Abigail went up the wall. That was a lot higher than where we are now.”
I cleared my throat, which felt as cold as my fingers for some reason. “Okay. I’ll try.”
The wind stilled and I heard Gideon breathing.
“You okay with me touching you now?”
“What?”
“I told you I wouldn’t touch you till you asked.”
“I see.” I changed my tone of voice, waggled my head from side to side. “Will you touch me, Gideon? Help me up?” My heart flip-flopped.
“Sure,” Gideon said. “I’ll help you. Put your foot in my hand. Balance against me.”
Everything we did confused me. Every command was opposite to what Terminals do. Still, I stepped into his hand and Gideon lifted me into th
e air.
“Let the wall help you balance. Like before with Abigail.”
You can do that, Shiloh.
Touch me, Gideon.
Touch me.
The brick was rough under my hands, cold, but I was high enough to see into the window. I pushed against the glass that was colder than the wall. It slid apart and I pushed again and again until there was room for me to get through.
“It’s open.” My heart pounded in my face, in my eyes. Warm air billowed out on me and my skin stung.
“Can you balance on the sill, then pull me up?”
“Why not?” I leaned in through the opening, my aching hands holding my weight. Pull up your legs, both of them. Swing around. Watch it! Careful!
“Careful,” Gideon said.
Somehow I got into position—half in, half out of the building—and I leaned for Gideon, the sill cutting me in half.
“Take my hand,” I said, waving my arms so he could catch hold in the darkness. “And hurry. I’m balancing on my stomach. This hurts.”
Gideon’s hand caught one of mine, then the other. He grabbed my wrists, locking on tight.
“Pull,” he said.
I did and the frame of the window ground into my stomach. When I tugged on Gideon, I slipped and then my ribs were being separated by metal and concrete. My scar burned like I’d pressed into a flame on the stove.
“Come on!” I almost didn’t get the words out.
Then, Gideon and I were face-to-face. He exhaled on my cheeks, on my lips. The memory of being sick tried to make me dizzy but I wouldn’t let it.
“You’ve got to move, Shiloh, or I can’t get in.”
That made sense. “Where?” I tried to slide over, but the window was only so big.
“Drop in the building.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.” Now Gideon sounded winded. “Drop.”
“There might be someone waiting. This might not even be a room.” I kept my balance, worked not to slip into the nothingness behind me.
“I’m losing my grip and we’re going to be stuck. You in there, me out here.”
“But what if Dr. King’s here?”
“Shiloh!”
I slid down the wall, toes reaching for something. Then I let go, landing on … what? A bed? I gasped. Was there someone in it? Would I wake him? Another step, this one sideways. No, I was on a sofa. What a relief! Above me, Gideon filled the window.
“Ouch.”
“What?” Gideon asked. He slid down the wall beside me. He closed the pane of glass.
I shook my head though I was sure he couldn’t see me. Was the skin gone from my hands and arms? And my ribs and stomach—maybe a “fold here” line had been etched into the flesh.
“Careful,” Gideon said. His fingers were warm. “Step down.”
I followed, crunching my hand into a ball. He squeezed my fist, tugged me after him, kept ahold though there wasn’t much to hold on to.
Touch me, Gideon.
“Adam used to come in here plenty,” Gideon said. “He knew all about this place. He told me about it.” He flipped on a flashlight (a gift from Adam that Gideon kept hidden, stealing batteries to keep it alive).
The room smelled soft, flowery, with the strange odor behind that reminded me of being little.
The Infirmary was in the front of this building. I knew that from when I’d been sick. Maybe that was the part of the memory?
We were in a room, not too large, that looked like an office. The flashlight bounced around the walls. A few chairs, a coffee table spread with magazines. Where was Dr. King’s office in relation to the Infirmary? In relation to where we stood now? An electric shock ran down my spine. The fear felt like it went out my hair.
Gideon reached for a magazine. On the cover was the woman who looked like Claudia and the title, A BRAND-NEW YOU.
The desk was large. So big, it seemed to take up the width of the room. Pictures of the Whole, all smiling, lined one wall. Bookshelves lined another.
“What are you looking for?” I asked.
Gideon shrugged, tried a few desk drawers, but came up empty-handed. “Maybe this is a consultation room,” he said. “Maybe people come here after they’ve seen us and talk about making their own Genetic Copies.”
There was nothing to say.
19
If Gideon and I were caught, what would happen?
Isolation for sure.
Anything more?
Would they use us up? Give our parts away to the highest bidder? I wouldn’t think of that. I’d just walk without sound, hoping we’d get what we needed so we could meet up with Abigail and Daniel.
Abigail.
For some reason I missed her.
We stepped into the hall that glowed with almost-not-there lighting. Gideon snapped off the flashlight.
“I’ll leave the door unlocked in case we want to crawl back out that window.” Gideon stood so close, I could smell the soap he used to wash with. “Can I still touch you, Shiloh?”
“Yes.” My voice came out a whisper, a sudden thrill running all over my body. “Yes, sure,” I said, louder. “I’m okay with that.”
Gideon took my hand in his and gave me a real smile—the first I had ever seen from him, then led me down the hall.
His hand was different from Abigail’s. Not as soft. Not as tiny.
I felt his skin under my fingertips.
“Look,” he said.
Up ahead was light, a thin strip. Like when I first saw the place I would meet Gideon and Abigail. How long ago had I thought I’d teach them a thing or two? Three days? Three weeks? It felt like years.
“Do they work all night, too?”
He turned to me, but didn’t lose my hand. “What do you remember about your operation?”
“What do you mean?”
Gideon crept forward, letting the blind flashlight lead the way. “Anything you can recall.”
I remembered. “There were people.”
“Doctors? Nurses?”
I nodded. Maybe. “Someone put the mask over my face.” The memory was foggy, not as clear as my dreams.
“Was the operation at night?”
I closed my eyes.
“The room was bright.”
The light ahead was unchanging.
“I’ve seen Dr. King enter the building on the north side,” Gideon said. His fingers laced with mine. “Maybe that’s where the operating rooms are.”
“This is where they operate on us?”
“Yes, Shiloh.”
“Who?”
“Who operates? Dr. King, mostly. He has a few assistants. Maybe there’s someone we know here.”
I cleared my throat. “Are you thinking of Elizabeth? Or Isaac?”
Gideon looked at me. “We don’t know what all goes on in this building. Or who’s here. For sure there’s the Infirmary. Like I said, they do operations here. Adam told me that. And anyone can look at the outside and see it’s huge. I just wanted to see for myself.”
“That’s dangerous,” I said.
“Sure,” Gideon said, “what we’re doing is deadly. But doing nothing kills us, too. Maybe when we get out of here we can use your memory, and you can tell everyone what’s going on in here. We know your family connections will help.”
As soon as the words came out of his mouth, I knew Gideon was right.
“I asked Dr. King about this building,” Gideon said. “Asked him what goes on here. He told me it’s just the Infirmary and a few offices. But then he made me take a triple dose of Tonic. That was a long time ago.”
“Why are we here?” I asked.
“Because he thinks we’re stupid.”
I didn’t answer.
Ahead were double doors. The kind that swing both ways.
Gideon stopped, his head lowered.
He didn’t move, just stood with his head bowed, my hand loose in his. “I miss Adam,” he said.
I understood it now, that missing someone.
The ache of it. That loss.
He let out a sigh. “Let’s just hurry. We can’t stand around talking.” He pulled me closer and I bumped into him. The strip of light grew brighter as we neared.
Was Dr. King behind the door up ahead? Did he know we were in the building? Did he watch us?
“I can’t hear anything.” Gideon looked at me. In the dimness of that hall his eyes seemed warm. What if I put my arms around him? If I put my lips to his? Touched his cheek with a fingertip? I shouldn’t think any of this.
“Your eyes might be too blue,” I said. I took a step forward.
“Are they?” Gideon tugged me closer.
“Maybe.”
“The Whole think the eyes are the window to the soul.”
I touched my throat, and my fingertips were cold as bullets. “But we don’t…”
Gideon nodded. “I know.”
This time when I touched his palm the warmth there soothed me. Gideon’s hand wrapped around mine and it was like he pulled all the air from my body.
I had never been touched like this. I mean, yes. He had touched me. And I had yelled at him. And Abigail, too. But this was different. I’d never felt this way. Not ever that I could remember.
“Ready?”
He stood close now. So close that when I looked up at him, I knew I’d look right into his eyes. If he had a soul, would I see it? And what was it that Ms. Iverson had done? Stood on tiptoe to get closer to Mr. Tremmel.
“Ready.” My answer was a whisper.
Gideon pushed with his shoulder against the door, opening it until he could see into the room beyond. “It’s an empty hall,” he said.
All that worry for nothing?
I clasped his hand in both of mine, brought it to my mouth, warming my fingers some in his.
No wonder they never wanted us to touch. Terminals would fight to know this feeling.
We crept into the hall that was lit by a cord of light that ran near the baseboard. There was a reflection of creamy yellow in the polished floor. Both walls were lined with windowless doors. Beads of light, just drops really, hung from the ceiling.
“What is this?”
“Look and see,” my mouth said, and I wasn’t even sure where those words had come from. Was I curious? No! Curiosity killed the Terminal. I wanted to hurry and get out of here. I wasn’t interested in anything but climbing back in bed and pulling the covers over my head.