Page 41 of Captured Immune

Katie lets out a little laugh. “You have quite the imagination, don’t you? We’re humans, just like you, except we have gifts. Now how about you sit down? It’s my turn to ask the questions.”

Sighing, I do as I’m told and plant my butt onto the mattress.

Katie taps around on her iPad, then says, “I’ve got a pretty long list of questions. All you’ve gotta do is answer them honestly. Think you can do that?”

The questions start off normal enough: Where did you grow up? Do you have any siblings? What did you study in college?

Once the questions are about my family, it gets weird: Did your mom or dad have a sexually transmitted disease at the time of your conception? Was your mother on any drugs or prescriptions while she was pregnant with you? Have you or your parents ever been bitten by an exotic spider?

I don’t understand how these questions are relevant. How would I know if my parents had an STD at the time of my conception or if my mother was on drugs? That’s not a typical dinner conversation. Even if it was, I never got the chance to ask.

“I told you already,” I say exasperated. The warped clock on the wall reads eleven thirty. It’s been almost two hours since we began this stupid interrogation. “My parents died in a car accident when I was three. I don’t even remember them.”

“Do you think there’s a chance your parents were Immunes too? Like, maybe it runs in the family?”

“No! No! No!” Normally, I don’t like to shout. Right now, I want to shout so loudly, the sky can hear me. I haven’t seen the sky yet today, so I’m questioning if it still exists. “I don’t know the answers to your dumb questions! I didn’t even know I was immune to anything until today!”

Katie’s expressionless as I chuck a pillow at her. She doesn’t even flinch as it hits her shoulder and flops onto the floor. I let out a scream toward the ceiling, then burst into tears.

It’s quiet for a moment while I cry into my hands, letting out all the emotions I’ve been bottling in since I woke up. I feel Katie’s gaze on me as she waits for me to stop sobbing.

When I don’t, she slaps her thighs and stands from her chair. “Welp, I think it’s time for lunch. I’ll be back in a bit. We can finish the questionnaire after you eat.”

There’s more?How can there be more?

Five minutes later, Katie returns with two food trays. My sobbing has subsided and turned into occasional hiccups. I’m regretting every decision I’ve ever made that landed me here, and all I want is to crawl into my nice comfy bed at home and never come out.

“Do you prefer turkey or ham? I made one of each. I’ll have whatever you don’t want.”

“Turkey,” I say somberly.

She hands me one of the trays. “I made it myself. If you want, I’ll take the first bite, so you know it’s not poisoned.”

“Don’t bother. If it is poisoned, at least it’ll end this misery.”

Katie puckers her bottom lip out into a little pout. “Oh, come on. Am I reallythatbad to hang out with? I think you’d prefer me over the last guy. He was kinda mean. He also had a gut that hung over his belt and a beard so long, you could braid it. Honestly, he looked like an ogre. And that’s saying something, because Zordis are naturally pretty fit. We have higher metabolisms than Ordis, so that guy had to really let himself go to get all that flub.”

That explains how Trey has such perfectly toned abs. All this time, I thought he just put a lot of effort into his exercise. Turns out, he’s got a mutant body that makes it easy for him to look fit.

“Can I sit with you?” Katie eyes the other side of the twin bed. “This chair is aching my bum.”

“Sure.”

We rest our food trays between us, then take a bite into our sandwiches. If someone snapped a photo of this moment, it’d look like Katie and I are best buddies, having a friendly bedroom picnic. In reality, I met this girl this morning and I know nothing about her, except that she works for a man who organizes federal crimes. Oh, and that she’s a thief.Is my necklace still in her bra?

“You asked me a million questions earlier,” I say. “Can I ask you some now?”

“You can ask, but I can’t promise I’ll give you the answer, even if I know it.”

“I’ll take all the answers you can give me. First, I want to know what yourmissionis.”

Katie swallows her food, then says, “Victor assigned me to be your overseer. I’m in charge of making sure you’re fed, dressed, and arrive on time to your appointments. Honestly, I thinkoverseeris just code forglorified babysitter. This wouldn’t have been my first pick from the pool of on-base assignments, but it’s a stepping-stone.”

“What would have been your first pick?” I open my bag of chips.

“My dream is to be a field agent, doing stuff out in the world where I can make a big difference. That’s not to say the people who work on base aren’t making a difference. Of course the janitors, the cooks, the maids, and even me, as Victor’s assistant, are important. We’re the oil for the gears to function properly—the gears being the field agents.

“But this type of work doesn’t light my soul on fire, ya know? It’s hard to feel like I’m making an impact when I’m confined down here all day and night. I guess if I had to pick something on base, I’d like to be in project management. I could help write up mission plans for the field agents and make sure they’re getting done.”

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