Chapter 22: Chapter 22

A sound reaches my ears. It's metallic, a single kink that echoes in my mind, bouncing from one side to the other, filling my thoughts. Eventually, it fades away.

Then I hear it again. It's like a bell chiming. I tell myself it's a memory of the school bells. A sound in my head. I listen to it with a sense of nostalgia.

It happens again. This time, it's louder and it hurts my head.

Then I feel something, or someone, shaking my shoulder. The bell tolls again and again, louder and faster. My head spins, and I feel my skin start to tingle and burn.

A gasp of pain escapes my lips as my eyes snap open. Bright lights flood my vision, and I instinctively shrink away from them. It takes a lot of blinking for my eyes to adjust to the light. Slowly, I start to see shapes, dark ones.

One shape is close to my face while the others hang back. People. As my vision clears, I see their white-blond hair, pale skin, and gray clothes. The metallic sounds start to fade as their voices begin to break through.

“Who is she?”

“How would I know?”

“Is she still a Perfect?”

“Looks like it.”

“Is she waking up?”

The voices quiet down. I blink at them, then slowly look past them. The walls are dark, seemingly made of dirt. Pieces of metal are pushed up against the dirt.

There's a hole in the wall, a doorway. Light is coming through it. There's also light from a lamp next to me, fire burning inside a glass case.

I seem to be on a bed. Layers of cloth cover me like blankets. Behind me is a wall. I curl up against it, pushing away from the people in the room with me.

I can see them clearly now. The one closest to me is a woman. She looks as old as a teacher. Her features are Perfect, and her white hair is cut short around her ears. Her lips are pressed together tightly as she studies me.

I notice the defect though. Her head is disproportionately large, but her body is quite small. Even though I’m lying on a bed, her face isn’t any higher than mine as she stands beside me. A Cripple.

My eyes move beyond her. Two men, both Perfects, but one breathes heavily through an open mouth and the other is quite short, far below Perfect standard. Cripples too. Workers.

“Girl!” The woman's voice snaps my gaze back to her. Her expression softens slightly.

“Who are you?” demands one of the men. The mouth-breather. I glance up at him. My tongue feels thick in my mouth.

“I knew it!” the other man spits. He takes a few quick steps toward me, raising his fists.

“Stop!” the woman snaps.

We all watch as she holds one of my water bottles to my lips. The water bubbles in my mouth and dribbles down my chin before I can really drink, but she’s patient with me. When she draws back, I shiver and cough.

“She’s sick. She’s not going to make it,” the short man says. “It’s a waste of energy. She’s dead already.”

“I’m amazed you can say that,” the woman tells him, eyeing him sharply. He frowns at her, and she turns back to me. “You should prove them wrong,” she tells me.

Suddenly, I don’t have the strength to keep my eyes open any longer. I feel my body collapse again, and everything goes dark.

***

Half conscious, I shiver and sweat under the pile of cloth in the dark room. I watch the fire flicker and grow smaller and smaller as the hours drag on.

My body burns and freezes at the same time. My head spins and pounds. I faint, then wake, then faint again.

The woman is always there though, standing by my side, pouring water down my throat, and wiping the sweat from my brow with a damp cloth. She doesn’t speak to me, just works silently.

We get visits from the men from before and another woman perhaps. She speaks to them briskly. They don’t linger. They declare me dead and move on.

When I wake up again, the little woman is asleep by the side of my bed, her hand still clutching the damp cloth. The candle is about to go out. I reach toward it, but my body trembles with effort.

I can’t reach it and fall back onto the bed. My head pounds steadily, but my body feels more stable. I take deep breaths of the damp air.

“Hey, is she dead yet? It’s time for you to eat.”

I turn my head to the voice. A tall man fills the doorway. Taller than a Perfect, his eyes are a piercing blue color. A Cripple. He freezes when his gaze meets mine, then he glances down at the little woman asleep beside me.

Ignoring me, he strides into the room and picks her up gently. Without a second glance, he carries her out of the room. I watch his back disappear, then close my eyes again.

***

Voices wake me up again. I open my eyes to find myself curled against the wall away from them.

“Are you really going to waste that on her?” a man asks. The same one who took the little woman away.

“Yes,” the woman replies.

“It’s a waste.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Are you going to wake her up?”

“She needs sleep for her body to fight and recover.”

“She’s not going to recover.”

There’s a short silence as they shift positions. I close my eyes.

“The fact that she’s made it this far is impressive in itself. I don’t think she’s weak.”

The woman’s voice is closer. The man snorts.

“Who is she?”

“I don’t know.”

“You didn’t ask?”

“No, and I don’t want to. Yet. I don’t want to while she’s this close to death. When you know the name, you know the person. Then she won’t just be dead, she’ll be a dead person that I knew. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yeah, you learn her name, you know her, the more it hurts right?”

“I’ve been hurt enough. I don’t want to hurt over a stranger.”

“Has she said anything yet?”

“Only when she’s asleep.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, she keeps repeating two names. Beth and Eric.”

“Maybe a boyfriend?”

“Could be someone she’s trying to find. I don’t know. I don’t want to speculate.”

“Do you think she could be a spy?”

“Ever heard of a female spy?”

I feel her small hand nudging my shoulder.

“Hey, wake up. You need to drink this.”

She pulls at my clothes. I roll over slowly, squinting at her. The man is crouched down next to her, his wide eyes studying me with suspicion.

I shift my gaze from him to the bowl of thick brown liquid the woman is offering. I try to grab it, but I can’t muster the strength to even reach for it.

“Can you help her sit up?” she asks the man.

He rises and bends down to me. His touch is unexpectedly gentle. He lifts me by my torso and props me against the wall. He holds me steady so the woman can pour the soup into my mouth.

I can almost hear the liquid splashing into my empty stomach. It’s scalding, and I nearly spit it back out. It’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever tasted, but I don’t care. I just keep gulping it down.

Suddenly, the bowl is empty and the woman pulls back. I stare at her, wide-eyed.

“Don’t drink too much at once, or you’ll just throw it all up. We need to take this slow.”

She slides off my bed. The man releases his hold on me and gently lays me back down. I watch as they exit the room together.