Page 16 of Calico Descending

Upon entering the building, we’re met by a man not much taller than me, with smooth blond hair and a cleanshaven face, who smiles as though he’s happy to see the two of us. “Hello!”

There’s a slimy nature to his voice that reminds me of the men who stumbled into our hive once, pretending to look for shelter. They were just as falsely friendly as this man, and it was only when my friend, Sienna, went missing that we determined they were actually marauders. From that moment on, no one was permitted into our hive again without being shot on sight.

“Welcome to Calico,” the blond says, clasping his hands together. “You two must be exhausted after your journey. Come, we’ll get you cleaned up and clothed.” He spins around before we even reach him, leading us up a staircase.

“What’s wrong with our clothes?” I ask, not bothering to follow after him. A sweep of the inside of the building shows tall ceilings with too bright lights, and the shiniest floors I’ve ever seen. So polished, I can see my reflection in them. Someone must work very hard to keep the floors this clean, and I’m curious to know why. “What is this place?”

He rolls his shoulders, turning around, and there’s nothing genuine about the smile he extends. “Were you not briefed on the way here?” At the shake of my head, he glances toward one of the soldiers and continues, “This is a hospital. You’ve spent quite a bit of time out in the Deadlands, it seems.” His eyes give a sharp sweep, feet to face, and he raises a brow. “Children should be checked regularly for signs of disease. You also appear to be slightly dehydrated and malnourished.”

“We feel just fine.”

“Just the same, I’d like you to come with me.”

“We’d rather just go.”

The exaggerated blink of his eyes through the next forced smile is a warning his patience is as thin as the mask he’s wearing. Lifting his gaze, he gives a nod, presumably to one of the soldiers standing behind me. Before I have a chance to swing around, something sharp stings my neck, and I slap a hand there, the weight of my arms heavy and weak.

I turn to see one of the soldiers holding a needle at my sister’s neck. “Hey! Lea’her’lone!”

Every word that comes out of my mouth is slurred, and when I lurch forward, the floor comes crashing toward my face.

A piercing pain strikes my head, and I open my mouth for a scream that doesn’t make it past my lips. Only a sharp breath expels, and I blink my eyes open to more of that blinding light, with the sound of ringing in my ears. I lift my arm, which feels as if it’s fallen asleep, my fingertips cold and useless, flaccid as they flop against my ears. A tube hangs from my wrist, and I follow it’s path to a clear bag hanging off a metal pole beside me. Bringing my other hand up is equally challenging, and my attempt to remove the needle lodged into my wrist is thwarted by muscles too lax to grip anything, but I can see the dirt and grime that coated my skin has been washed clean away, and I sniff a sweet lavender scent in its place.

A dryness worse than thirst clings to my throat, and I cough, trying to work up a small bit of saliva. Feels like the rough surface of a cat’s tongue. I’m lying on a white bed, with white sheets, in a white room, with white walls. Speckles of red look like blood splashed over its surface, but I can’t imagine where from.

The curtain swings back, revealing a slim woman with dark skin, wearing a gray uniform. With her hair shaved down to her bald head, I only know she’s female based on her face, which doesn’t offer much of a smile, as she handles the bag dangling from the pole. And the breasts poking against her shirt. “Another five minutes and you should be good to go to the Commissary for supper.”

I wonder if they’ve shaved my head, too, since I can’t feel anything.

Swallowing past the lump that won’t shrink at the back of my throat, I raise my head off the pillow, watch her lift my wrist and set some cold piece of metal there that’s attached to a necklace, of sorts, which she sticks into her ears.

“What’s Commissary?”

“Shhhh.” She stares off for a moment, the slight nod of her head seeming to keep track of something while she holds the metal to my wrist, then she pops the necklace out of her ears. “First floor. You’ll eat some stew and get thirty minutes in the yard. Feeling should return soon. You’ll probably have some nausea, but the broth will help.” She sounds like my mother when we got sick, spouting off her nursing terms so matter-of-fact.

There’s a sense of panic brewing in my chest at the information this woman isn’t providing, though. “My sister? Where is my sister?”

“You’ll meet her in the Commissary, and then you’ll be assigned to your bunks.”

At that, I push up as much as I can, lifting half my body up off the bed, before a hand sets against my chest. “Nuh-uh. Five minutes. You try to move now, and you’ll be trippin’ all over yourself.”

“I want to see my sister.”

“And you will.” The way her brow raises also reminds me of my mother, when she refused to negotiate with me. “In five minutes.”

On a huff of frustration, I fall back onto the pillows, the irritation growing faster than my sense of touch. “What is this place?”

“What’s it look like?” She lifts a board with an attached paper and a pen, scribbling something I can’t see.

“I’m old enough to know looks can be deceiving.”

She rolls her eyes and snorts a laugh. “Smart girl.” Setting the board back down on the table beside me, she sets to straightening my sheets around me. “It’s a research facility. We’re here to find a cure for the Dredge.”

“And what role do my sister and I play in that?”

“Look, kid, I’m just the nurse who makes sure you wake up. I don’t have all the answers.” She spins to leave, and whether by will, or a small measure of strength, I’m able to reach out and grab her wrist, stopping her.

“Please. Help us get out of here. We don’t belong here.”

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