Gabi nodded.
Gram still wore the oxygen mask, but her chest moved up and down in a reassuring rhythm. Gabi waited until Nurse Mehta left before touching Gram on the back of her hand. Gram’s eyes flew open, and she pulled the oxygen mask from her face, making it clear that she’d only been playacting the role of a restful patient to get the nurses out of the room.
“Gram, don’t—”
“Shhh, listen to me now. There is something terrible happening in this place, and I don’t know who else knows, so it’s important that you not tell anyone until I figure out who we can trust. I hate to put this on you, honey, but you’re going to have to do something for me.”
“What, Gram? What are you talking about?”
Gram reached under the blanket and pulled out the passcard and the whale photo, then pressed them into Gabi’s hand.
“Take these. Keep your father’s passcard for when you need it again. He’ll notice it’s missing, but I’m always finding it in his jackets and pants pockets anyway. He’ll just think he misplaced it. Hide the photo somewhere in your room, and don’t tell anybody about getting into the Corrections Facility. I need you to help me, and you can’t do that if you get yourself into trouble.”
“But it’s all my fault!”
“No,” Gram stated evenly. “I saw what they were doing. I cried out because of what I saw, and then they saw me. That’s when I felt the pain in my arm. They activated the alarm, but I caused it.”
“Who are you talking about? We need to tell Dad,” Gabi whispered, struggling to make sense of Gram’s words.
“I intend to, or at least I’ll try, but I need you not to say anything just yet—not what you did and not what I did. I need to speak with your father privately first.” All the temporary animation drained out of Gram’s face. She pulled the oxygen mask back down and inhaled. Sam’s voice floated toward them from down the hall, and Gram’s eyes widened as she pulled the mask away from her face again. “Remember, Gabriela, I will speak to him myself. Just leave—” Gram broke off as Sam entered the room, Officer Katz and Messenger Nystrom following on his heels. Gram drew the oxygen mask back down and nodded at Gabi in reassurance.
Her father pinned Gabi with an admonishing look as he leaned over Gram and put his hand on her forehead. “Mom, you really gave me a scare.” Gram moved to lift her mask, but Sam stilled her hand. “You don’t have to talk right now. The nurse says you’re going to be fine if you can keep still for a while. I told her she doesn’t know who she’s dealing with.”
Gram laid a fond hand on Sam’s cheek, and Sam placed a kiss in the center of her palm. For an instant Gabi’s father looked young again, but then Messenger Nystrom cleared his throat and stepped forward into the family tableau.
“Sam, Officer Katz does need to get some information from your mother. We’ve got to determine the sequence of events to address the breach in security. Until we do, the entire community is vulnerable.”
Sam’s face hardened. “Ben, as you can see, she’s in no condition to talk at the moment. It will have to wait.”
“Nonsense,” Gram mumbled from beneath the mask. She shoved it up onto her forehead and glared at Messenger Nystrom, whom she’d always said was more pompous than a servant of the Word should be. “Let’s get this over with. I’ve got some questions of my own I’d like answered.”
“Gabriela, it would be best if you went home now,” Sam said sternly. “As you can see, your grandmother is back to her usual stubborn self, and I’m sure she’ll be too tired for company when we’re finished. We’ll come back tomorrow, okay? Please tell Mathew.”
“But what about Gram’s stuff?” Perhaps Gabi could convince Mathew to let her tag along with him to deliver the personal items to Gram. Maybe she’d have one more chance to learn her grandmother’s secret before being exiled to the house for the night.
“It can wait,” her father said, sighing and glancing over at Messenger Nystrom and Officer Katz. “It will have to.”
Gabi looked down at Gram. The once-solid edges of her body were fuzzy and luminous, the hovering essence Gabi had noticed earlier lifting farther into the air, attached by only the finest silvery threads. Gram’s eyes bored into hers, but there was an encroaching vacancy in her gaze. Gabi leaned over to kiss her cheek, the motion causing tears to spill out of her eyes again. Before pulling away, she turned her mouth to her grandmother’s ear. “I love you, Gram. Please stay.”
MATHEW HAD almost regained the plaza when Gabi caught him and told him that their father insisted they return home and wait for him there. Her brother’s face fell as he lifted Gram’s overnight bag. “What about this?”
“Tomorrow,” Gabi said. “They need to ask her some questions, and then she has to rest.”
“It’s not fair,” Mathew mumbled, his voice breaking. “I didn’t get to see her.”
Don’t cry, Gabi pleaded silently. She didn’t know if she could handle watching one more person she loved suffer because of her.
Mathew looked longingly across the plaza toward the Care Center. The crowd had dispersed, everyone gone home to get out of the weather. For the five months of drought and blistering heat that made up one of the two seasons the northern hemisphere experienced, everyone prayed for the arctic blasts and frozen precipitation of winter, but no enthusiasm could withstand the assault of such dead cold. Summer meant unquenchable thirst, temperatures streaking up above 120 degrees, and soil parched so deeply that not even snow and early floods could percolate through it. Still, by May, not a soul among them wasn’t praying for
